


basic heartbreak repair

by lgbtrobed



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Reunions, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtrobed/pseuds/lgbtrobed
Summary: After a life-changing realization while sailing the world, Troy is convinced that he’s missed his shot with the love of his life. But when the Greendale gang reunites for a very special wedding, he might get to learn a little something about second chances.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir, background jeff/britta - Relationship, like. it's their wedding but it's all about trobed oops
Comments: 145
Kudos: 321





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! this is probably going to be a relatively short chaptered fic-- i haven't outlined the entire thing yet but it'll probably be like 5-ish?? chapters?? also it's rated teen for now, but just a heads-up that the rating may increase later on. anyway, thanks for clicking on here, i hope you enjoy!!

Eight years and one sea journey around the world later, there’s still nothing quite as gratifying as seeing a twinkle of awe in Jeff Winger’s eye. 

“Troy,” Jeff breathes as he gazes around the foyer. His eyes jump from the exposed beam ceiling to the crystal chandelier, to the glossy hardwood floors to the spiral staircase, to the giant single-panel windows, and then back again, “This place is incredible.” 

Troy laughs a little and shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing around the room as well and scuffing his shoe on the floor. 27 years old and a millionaire, he still feels like a teenager around Jeff, feeling swells of pride at every bit of praise. 

“Sorry I didn’t get to have you guys around before,” he says instead of acknowledging the compliment, “you know how it is in the summer, air conditioners malfunctioning left and right. But hey, getting married here’s probably a pretty good way to introduce you to the place, right?”

“I know I’ve already said this a million times,” Jeff says, glancing over at Troy with a new sort of respect that he’s still getting used to seeing, “But we can’t thank you enough for this. You’re the best.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Troy shrugs. “Come on, I’ll show you around the rest of the place before anyone else gets here.”

As he leads Jeff around the open-plan living room and kitchen, he can’t help but think what a far cry this is from the first tour he’d ever given him around apartment 303, all cramped and shabby and, well… kiddie. Troy’s, like, a total grown-up now, with grown-up money and a grown-up job and house, _and_ lake house where his friends can celebrate some of the most important days of their lives. It’s weird.

“Egyptian cotton,” Jeff comments, rubbing a bit of bedsheet between his fingers as Troy’s showing him to the master bedroom, “Good choice.” He shoots him another bright grin and it’s so nice to see him so genuinely happy, Troy can’t help but grin back. Who would’ve thought that being engaged would look so good on the guy.

The tail-end of the tour consists of a quick peek into the guest bedroom and a nod to the basement door, with a promise that they’ll check the rec room (complete with pool table, he assures) out later. 

“I saved the best part for last,” Troy says, motioning to the spiral staircase. “But before we go up there, do you want a drink? I bought scotch.”

“You know it,” Jeff follows him to the kitchen. “Just, uh. Don’t say anything to Britta? I’ve been trying to do this whole sober solidarity thing with her. She said I could have a pass for the wedding but that’s technically not for a few days, so-”

“Got it,” Troy nods. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

He fixes their drinks, feeling a little self-conscious as he does. But Jeff’s beaming when he takes his glass, just like Troy was hoping.

“Two drops of spring water, huh?”

Troy can’t help but smile, too. He holds his own glass up and clinks it lightly against Jeff’s. “Yeah. A wise old man once told me it activates the flavor.”

  
  


*

  
  


A warm, summery wind rustles through the trees as Troy stretches out on his lounge chair, resting his head against the back of it and letting his eyes slip shut for just a moment.

“Damn,” Jeff says. Troy doesn’t open his eyes just yet but he can hear Jeff padding around the porch, wrapped around the back of the second floor of the house and jutting out over the water. “You did save the best part for last.”

Troy takes another small sip of his scotch, pursing his lips slightly at the taste. It’s not his favorite no-no juice, but he can choke down one glass for the sake of celebrating with a friend. He finally opens his eyes again when he hears Jeff settle down in the lounge chair next to him. “So, when are the others getting here?”

“Britta’s picking Shirley and Annie up from the airport at 3,” Troy says, voice brightening at the reminder that he’s gonna be seeing his old friends so soon, “Annie coordinated it so their flights would get in around the same time. Then we can all hang out for a while, do some planning, order dinner, and… I don’t know, try not to burn the house down, I guess?”

Jeff hums. “And Abed?”

“Abed,” Troy clears his throat and takes another, longer sip of his drink. He tries to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the heat blooming on his cheeks. “Um, he’s not getting in until late. He said to go ahead and start the festivities without him, he’ll be here around 10.”

He chances a look over at Jeff and barely refrains from grimacing when he sees the small smirk on his face. “You must be excited to see him,” he says knowingly. 

“Yeah,” Troy turns away and looks out in front of him instead, eyes skimming over the crystally lake as it glitters in the sun. “Yeah, ‘course I am. It’s been way too long.”

He can tell even without checking that Jeff’s still giving him _that_ look, so he rolls his eyes a little. “What?” He groans. “I’m excited to hang out with him. As _friends._ Just like we used to. Best _friends_.”

“You’re not just best friends, Troy,” Jeff says. He sounds sincere, Troy’s pretty sure he can’t hear the smirk in his voice anymore. “You haven’t been for a long time.”

He feels a small lump forming in his throat that he forcibly swallows down with another sip of scotch. 

“I know it must’ve been hard,” Jeff continues, “realizing you were in love with him on the boat, just for him to have a boyfriend anyway by the time you got back.”

“It was,” Troy grumbles, “Thanks for reminding me.” Jeff pats his back. 

“Troy, listen to me, okay? Sometimes we get held up, but things are gonna come together for you guys. Practically the whole world is rooting for it. And the Troy Barnes I know isn’t the type to run _away_ from what he wants. Not anymore.”

He has to smile at that in spite of everything. “You’re the one getting married, aren’t you supposed to let someone else do the inspirational speeches for once?” Jeff shrugs, like he can’t help himself. 

“Anyway, even if you’re technically right, I’m not gonna break up Abed’s relationship. I’m not a homewrecker, first of all, and… I could never risk losing him as a friend. That’d be worse than anything.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jeff shifts forward in his chair. “Did you say homewrecker?”

“Um. Yeah?” Troy raises an eyebrow at him. “Him and Mark? That boyfriend you mentioned literally 30 seconds ago?”

“Oh my god,” Jeff turns around, swinging his legs off the side of his chair and planting his feet on the deck, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his bent knees. Troy turns towards him too, albeit apprehensively, startled by the sudden change in demeanor evidenced by the smirk that’s threatening to take over Jeff’s face again. “He didn’t tell you.”

Troy frowns. Tell him what? Abed tells him everything. They tell each other everything… right? They always have. “Didn’t tell me what?” He asks.

“Troy,” Jeff grins, “Mark and Abed broke up two months ago.”

Troy’s mouth drops open and he starts hearing a distant ringing in his ears, partially muting Jeff’s voice as he continues to talk. “Well… more like Mark left him to be with his ex-fiance, it was a whole thing, no wonder that kid has abandonment issues. First his mom, then you, then this douche-”

“Whoa,” Troy cuts him off once he gets it together slightly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, you do _not_ put me in the same category as his mom and some douchey ex. I came back for him.”

Jeff holds his hands up in surrender.

“Thank you,” Troy mumbles, letting the flash of indignation wear off before he comes to his senses yet _again,_ and jumps to his feet. Because secondly… 

“Jeff,” he says quietly, trying to will his racing heart to calm down a little. “Are you telling me… Abed’s single now?”

Jeff nods. “I really thought that was gonna be the first thing you addressed,” He says, glancing up at him in appraisal. “You ok, buddy?”

Troy still feels too stunned to comprehend, but he manages a nod. He can practically hear his own heartbeat, thumping fast and steady behind the voice in his head saying _single, Abed’s single, Abed’s single now, he’s SINGLE, get it together, this is fine, it’s just that your best friend and love of your life is SINGLE now and he’s going to be here TONIGHT and oh god, oh god, what the hell am I supposed to—_

“Um,” Jeff stands up, looking a little guilty for having put Troy into such a state. “Maybe I should give you some time to think? I’ll… go unpack some stuff. Thanks for the scotch.”

  
  


*

  
  


He and Jeff are in the middle of an intense game of frisbee when he hears the telltale clunking and rattling of Britta’s car pulling down the dirt road. He catches the frisbee Jeff tosses to him and then turns to look, just in time to see her stir up a cloud of dust as she parks that heap of junk she absolutely refuses to replace next to Jeff’s Lexus. Said cloud of dust hasn’t even settled by the time Annie’s jumping out of the backseat and running across the grass. 

“Troy!” She’s quick to throw herself at him, arms around his shoulders, and he laughs as he lifts her up and spins her around once before setting her down. Her hair still smells like the same fruity shampoo she’s been using since forever. “Oh my god, I missed you so much! You look so good! And this place is amazing! You’re so sweet to offer it up for the wedding. Speaking of which,” she shrugs her backpack down onto one shoulder and unzips it, “as the official wedding planner, I have a few things I need to discuss with you about the property-”

“Not so fast,” Shirley cuts her off, walking up from behind just as Annie’s pulling an alarmingly huge binder out of her bag, “You don’t get to whisk my boy off before I’ve even said hello.” She holds her arms out and Troy dives right into them.

“It’s good to see you, pumpkin,” she says as he pulls back with her hands on his cheeks, and Troy’s about to respond when Britta calls out to them, still standing at the car.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, guys!” She pops open the trunk. “I’ve got all your luggage and shit! I heard you’re actually supposed to do _more_ heavy lifting when you’re pregnant, so-”

“We got you!” Troy heads over to the car closely behind Jeff, and lets him start the unloading while he pulls Britta into a careful hug. 

“Oh, Troy,” she hugs him back, “this place is so great.” She sniffs and wipes her eyes a bit, which is something she’s been doing a lot lately. “I mean, I know this is just the hormones, but god. You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”

“Trying to be,” he shrugs, omitting the fact that most of the time he just feels like an overgrown kid with more money than he knows what to do with. He offers his arm out to her. “Come on, I’ll show you guys where you’re all staying.”

Britta smiles and grabs onto his arm and he leads her towards the house, Annie and Shirley following closely behind. 

“Uh, guys?” Jeff calls out as they walk away, realizing that they’ve left him to finish up with the luggage by himself.

“Don’t answer,” Britta mumbles. “He can lift a few bags. Builds character, or whatever.”

Troy laughs and gives her arm a squeeze. “Never change, Britta.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Shirley,” Britta says later, when they’re all sitting out on the upper porch, “this sweet tea is delicious.”

“Oh, thank you Bri-tta,” Shirley says with that special, sweet inflection she does. “I’ll tell you one thing about Atlanta, living there has made me a _much_ better chef. And I didn’t know that was possible.”

“So your spin-off is doing well, as Abed would say,” Annie offers, taking a long sip from her wine glass and resting her head on Troy’s shoulder. He flushes a little at the mention of Abed, though no one seems to notice—except for Jeff, who tears his eyes away from his phone long enough to shoot him a quick glance. Troy takes a drink from his own glass of wine, relaxing as it warms his chest. 

_God,_ he thinks. Since when does he feel nervous about seeing Abed?

...Well. He knows the answer to that question, but still. At least Abed’s not gonna be here for another few hours. Troy can manage to pull himself together by then.

“Speaking of Abed,” Britta leans forward in her chair, pushing her sunglasses back onto her head and looking down at the road. “Whose car is that?”

“Hm?” The others’ heads perk up, Troy included, to see that there is in fact an unfamiliar car pulling in and parking next to Britta’s.

An unfamiliar car.

As in… a rental car, perhaps. 

A rental car that one might get... at the airport. 

Then the driver-side door opens and it’s unmistakably Abed that steps out, with his signature head of dark hair and mess of gangly limbs.

“Troy!” Annie gasps and hits him lightly on the shoulder. “You said he wasn’t gonna be here until tonight! Abed!” She jumps up from her seat and waves excitedly. He hears her, apparently, because he turns up towards the balcony and waves back. “Stay there!” She calls, “We’re coming down!”

And then she’s off, running in through the balcony’s French doors, and Troy hears the sound of her shoes on the stairs. Shirley follows after her at a more modest, but still pretty brisk pace, followed by Britta, and Troy’s relieved to see that she’s walking much more carefully. That leaves Troy and Jeff, Jeff standing up out of his chair and Troy still sitting, wide-eyed and clutching his glass. 

“You alright, man?” Jeff asks. Troy nods, though the way he immediately knocks back the rest of his wine might suggest otherwise. He sets the glass down and accepts the hand that Jeff extends to pull him up.

“You got this,” Jeff pats him on the back and before Troy knows it he’s walking next to him, in through the doors and towards the stairs. “Come on, you’re in your element here. Remember: it’s _Abed_.”

By the time they make it outside, Annie’s calmed down a little and Britta’s doing a mediocre job concealing her happy tears again. And the closer Troy approaches, the more he starts to sweat, because… crap. Abed looks good. 

Like… _really_ good. 

Like… fucking _hot._

They’re pretty good at keeping in touch, but it’s not too often that he gets to actually _see_ Abed anymore, and it’s like a slap in the face right now. A very sexy slap in the face.

He’s wearing shorts, first of all, which is a rare Abed style choice. Or at least it was, in his Colorado days, but he’s an LA man now. They’re coral, hit just above the knee, and they fit him perfectly, showcasing his long legs in all their glory. On top, he’s gone for a navy-and-gray striped henley pushed up to his elbows, which just so happens to make his chest and arms look especially good and toned. 

And then, there’s one of Troy’s biggest weaknesses… his hair. It’s grown out just enough that it’s starting to curl loosely around his temples and it looks so… soft and silky and strokable. And Troy knows that it is. He has memories of running his fingers through it when Abed needed to be soothed from a meltdown or panic attack, or just in general, because Troy was one of the few people that he was comfortable asking to touch him. Remembering how that felt— Abed’s warm body curled up in his lap, head tucked over his shoulder, Troy can’t believe he didn’t realize sooner that he was in love. The way he’d felt like he could just melt… and still convinced himself that it was only that they were such good friends. He mentally scolds himself for the millionth time for being such an idiot about it.

“Well, it’s a wedding,” Troy hears him say from a distance, “So I figured I’d go for the surprise arrival trope.” One of the girls must’ve asked him how he got here so early.

“Hey, hotshot,” Jeff calls out to him when they’re close enough. Abed looks up from where he’s resting his hand on Britta’s slightly swollen stomach— he’s always been weirdly good with pregnant women— and his mouth quirks up into a smile that’s the Abed equivalent of a dazzling grin. Jeff pulls him into a hug first, making some kind of joke about Abed taking the time out of his fancy Hollywood life to come visit them, though Troy’s not listening that closely.

After that, everything seems to move in slow motion: Jeff letting go of Abed, Jeff stepping away until there’s nothing between him and Abed except empty space. Everyone shifting into fake-casual poses, trying to pretend they’re not waiting on the metaphorical edges of their metaphorical seats to see exactly what Troy’s going to do. And then, finally… Abed. Abed’s gaze lands on him, his face as beautiful and perfect as it ever was, and— are those _angels_ singing in Troy’s head? 

Fuck.

His heart starts pumping faster again. 

Fuck, _fuck._

But then it happens. A single wrinkle etches itself cutely into Abed’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and Troy knows what that means. 

It means that Abed doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. Like he wants to step forward but he’s forgotten how. Like he needs Troy to come to him, and he needs Troy to _know_ that he needs that.

So he does. As soon as he picks up his foot to take his first step forward, everything falls into place and then he’s running, throwing his arms around Abed and feeling tears spring to the corner of his eyes. Abed lets out a soft, surprised ‘oof’ at the impact but his arms immediately wrap tightly around Troy’s waist. And Troy thinks, as he presses his cheek to Abed’s and breathes in the familiar scent of him— his shampoo, cologne, and cherry chapstick— that maybe Abed’s shaking a little bit, too.

He doesn’t know how long they stay that way. Ten seconds, ten minutes, time never really means much when Abed’s around. But eventually they do break apart, Troy wiping the tears off his cheeks before breathing out a laugh.

“Damn,” he sighs. “I missed you, buddy.”

He holds his hand out for their handshake without even thinking and Abed’s right there with him. Two claps, two thumps on the chest and Troy feels whole.

They seem to remember at the same time that they’re not actually alone as they turn towards the rest of the group, now all gathered to one side of them.

“I can’t believe Jeff and Britta getting married isn’t the most romantic thing I’m gonna see on this trip,” Annie says after a moment, which means she’s probably a little tipsy. She winces when Britta elbows her.

“Alright!” Jeff speaks up before things can turn awkward, for which Troy is immensely grateful. “Well, these guys are already halfway to Planet Trobed and none of us know our way around there, so… Annie? You wanted to do something with the, uh… floral arrangements?”

“Oh! Yes,” she claps a couple times while Britta visibly suppresses a groan. “I think I left my binder in the kitchen. Shirley, I’m sure we could use your input too, you know more about weddings than any of us. See you guys!” She gives Troy and Abed a little wave and herds the rest of the group back towards the house. 

And then it’s just them.

Troy and Abed.

Alone, together.

“Can I show you around?” Troy blurts, which feels kind of overly formal for them, but he can’t deal with any lulls right now. Abed seems surprised as well, but nods.

“Cool,” Troy nods, and gestures for Abed to follow him as he walks back toward the house.

Abed smiles a little, slips his hands into his pockets and matches Troy’s pace. “Cool cool cool.”

  
  


*

  
  


“What I _really_ wanna do is get one of those giant water trampolines,” Troy says, nodding out towards the lake. Showing Abed around the house had quickly started to feel phony, so now they’re sitting on the end of the dock, Abed with his legs criss-crossed and Troy with his feet dangling in the water. “And maybe build a tire swing. And set it up just right so that you can jump off the tire swing and onto the trampoline.”

“That’s genius,” Abed replies. His flat tone of voice would sound sarcastic coming from anyone else, but Troy knows that he means it. It’s good to know that he’s still got it; that he can still read all of Abed’s small inflections and subtle expressions, hopefully still better than anyone else.

That’s a little selfish. He wants other people to get Abed, too. He wants everyone to love and understand him and see how great he is, instead of brushing him off just because his brain works differently. But he’s always taken some sort of pride in being the person who got him the _most._

It’s a fair trade though, because Abed gets him better than anyone, too. Troy remembers towards the end of their freshman year, finding a notebook full of observations about just him. He’d charted Troy’s moods and needs based on everything from the weather, to what classes he had, to what movies they watched, and so on. It had wrinkled his brain to find out that someone was paying such close attention to him, trying so hard to figure him out. Realizing that that was Abed’s way of… caring about him. He’d even written little notes on certain specific situations.

_After fighting with his dad: usually quiet, wants to be alone. Needs time to think, then cry, then nap. Leave a can of Lemon Fresca next to the bed for when he wakes up._

_During/after sad movies: wants to be cuddled but sometimes seems embarrassed about that, tries to hold back crying which usually makes him hiccup. Make sure he drinks water._

_After football games: takes really long showers, then wants buttered noodles and special drink. Will probably spend the night._

_Gets very upset watching ASPCA commercials. Change the channel ASAP if one comes on._

_Likes when you save the seat next to you for him at lunch._

_Doesn’t like when you beat him at sports, but also doesn’t want you to let him win. More research needed._

He’d never told Abed about finding the notebook. He didn’t want him to think that Troy thought it was weird, because then maybe he’d stop, and he didn’t want that at all. That was also when Troy realized that they’d made the leap from friends to best friends. It was a really, _really_ good feeling.

“Jeff told me about you and Mark,” Troy says after they’ve sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the minnows swim. “That sucks.”

It’s kind of an awkward thing to bring up, but he has to, right? It’s even weirder if he doesn’t, right? 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” Abed says after a moment. Troy looks over at him and he’s staring blankly down into the water. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell anyone else either. Just Jeff. And then I figured he’d tell whoever wanted to know.”

He meets Troy’s eyes for a moment, then shifts them so he’s looking over his shoulder instead. “When you were gone, Jeff and I kinda bonded over how we’re both afraid of people leaving us. So he was the person I thought to tell when Mark… you know, left.”

“Dude,” Troy angles himself towards Abed a little more, “Don’t apologize. I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me.” That’s sort of a lie, he kind of is, but it’s beside the point for now. “I’m upset _for_ you. That he left you like that. He’s an asshole, and you deserve way better.”

Abed tilts his head a little bit. “You know something I didn’t tell anyone, even Jeff?” He asks. “I was kind of relieved when he left. I knew we weren’t gonna work, it just really sucked that he left _that_ way.”

“...Oh.” Troy nods, doing his best to maintain a cool expression while his heart starts somersaulting over in his chest. Relieved. That’s… interesting. 

_Okay,_ he tells himself. _Back up. Don’t make a fool of yourself yet._

“So Jeff and Britta, huh?” He says, mostly just to change the subject. He hopes Abed doesn’t notice that his voice cracks a little. “Getting married. Can you believe it? Them, of all people?”

Abed nods, looking deep in thought, so Troy speaks again. “Do you think it’ll last?”

“I’ve run the simulations,” Abed’s eyes brighten like they always do when he gets to talk about this. “The relationship lasts; the marriage doesn’t. Right now, the pregnancy is making them feel especially close. And I’m sure Britta’s insistently told you already that they’re only doing this—”

“—For the tax benefits,” Troy says, happy that he’s still able to finish Abed’s sentences.

Abed nods. “And the gifts from Jeff’s rich lawyer friends—”

“And the excuse to get us all together again—”

“And because Jeff has to prove a point to his dad—”

“And they were sick of everyone teasing them for almost getting married three times, so they think they’re really gonna stick it to us with this one,” Troy finishes.

Abed wiggles his brows slightly. “But in about a year, they’re both gonna freak out and realize they betrayed themselves and everything they stand for by buying into this institution, and get a hasty divorce. But they won’t break up. They’ll just refuse to be a part of the system, but they’ll do it together. Raising their son is gonna make them both a lot more patient, which will extend to their relationship too.”

“Wait, it’s a boy?” Troy asks. “I thought they weren’t finding out the sex because gender isn’t real, or whatever Britta said.”

Abed shrugs. “That, I can’t actually predict. Narratively, it makes sense for it to be a boy so that Jeff can parallel his father as closely as possible, thereby making it all the more compelling when he turns out to be a good dad and raises his son the way his own father was never able to raise him.” He looks like he’s going to continue talking, but then he stops himself. “But I should stop talking about them like they’re a movie. They tend to not like it when I do that.”

“Yeah,” Troy agrees, “Not really.” He can’t count the number of times he’s heard someone yell at Abed about how real life isn’t TV, though he never quite understood what was so bad about it.

“Anyway,” he says after a moment, “I gave Jeff and Britta the master bedroom, obviously. The guest room has two beds, so Annie and Shirley are in there. And then for us I was thinking… there’s a fold out couch down in the rec room. And a big screen TV. If we stay down there we can fall asleep watching movies, like we used to in your dorm.”

It’s kind of a bold offer. Before, when he thought Abed was still in a committed relationship, he was gonna give him the rec room and then sleep on the living room couch himself. But now the thought of sleeping away from Abed seems incredibly stupid, and it’s not like they’ve never shared a bed before. This might be a safe way to test the waters.

His heart jumps when he looks into Abed’s eyes. Abed’s hair may be a weakness of his, but it pales in comparison to his eyes. Troy’s found himself lost in them so many times, just so… dark, and gentle, and warm. The definition of comfort. Despite his nerves, he’s just so content to stare at them.

“Cool,” Abed says. He seems unfazed by the proposition. “Cool cool cool.”

Troy sighs in relief and nods. They’ve passed the first test.

It just so happens that then he looks down in between them and almost has a freaking heart attack. Because Abed’s hand is resting casually by his side, his palm turned upwards. He’s not looking at his hand, or at Troy, but it’s an invitation. Always has been.

As he breathes in deeply, he reminds himself that he’s done this a million times before. Then he inches his own hand closer to Abed’s. Their pinkies brush and Abed doesn’t move away. Troy waits for the rush of electricity running through his body to die down. 

And, it’s time.

He musters every ounce of courage he has left to move in even closer, grazing over the palm of Abed’s hand before finally sliding his fingers into the gaps between Abed’s, where they fit so well. 

It’s such a gentle, innocent thing, but that doesn’t stop Troy from feeling like Abed’s hand is a lifeline as he stares out over the water, determined not to make any sort of fuss and scare him away.

It takes a second— which feels like an eternity— but then Abed’s fingers are curling around his, locking them together. Troy feels giddy and a little floaty and also pretty scared, but he doesn’t let it show. He just lightly squeezes Abed’s hand— a faint acknowledgement that, yes, he did this on purpose. Yes, he wants this.

And he bites back a smile when Abed squeezes back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> find me on tumblr @[lgbtrobed,](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/) [reblogs](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/631992937812803584) are appreciated ❤️
> 
> comment/kudos for me to love you more than abed loves sweaters


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanna say thanks to everyone who's been reading so far!! i cherish each and every one of you ❤️

“Craig wants to know if we’d prefer for him to dress up as baby Cupid or as Aphrodite, goddess of love, while officiating,” Britta reads off of her phone later that evening. “He says he was halfway done sewing an elaborate swan gown, but he doesn’t want to...” she narrows her eyes, “...upstage me in my white dress? What the-”

“Just say Aphrodite,” Jeff sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No one needs to see him in a diaper again. Not after all your weird season 7 pitches.”

That earns a few laughs, and Troy realizes with a slightly sad pang that it must be one of the jokes he missed out on while he was gone. Maybe he’ll ask Abed about it later. 

It’s dark outside now and they’re in the living room, eating pizza off the coffee table while simultaneously trying to work out some of the finer details about the reception, though Troy doesn’t know how well that’s actually going. Annie’s sitting next to Britta on the couch, desperately trying to get her input on literally anything while Britta desperately tries to avoid looking down at the scrapbook that’s being repeatedly thrust at her. Jeff is on Britta’s other side, holding her phone and seemingly negotiating with Dean Pelton’s costuming whims. Shirley sits in the recliner at the end of the table, jotting down recipes and baking times for the dessert spread and Abed and Troy are next to each other on the floor, Abed fiddling around with his camera and Troy chewing idly on a piece of crust, hoping that Annie will have a question for him soon about outlets or square footage or something. 

“Are you guys _sure_ there’s nothing for me to do right now?” He sighs. “I feel useless.”

Jeff shoots him a look. “Troy, you’re providing lodging and a beautiful property for us to use, free of charge. You’ve done more than anyone at this point.”

“Plus you’ll be busy tomorrow,” Annie says, pointing her pen at him and looking up from the scrapbook briefly. “I’m gonna need you to help me map out exactly where we’re going to put the tent, and the stage for the band, and where everyone’s gonna park.”

He relaxes a little at the prospect of having a job tomorrow. Still, he’s a little restless, so he stands up, gathering up some of the napkins and empty plates strewn around. “Okay, well, does anyone need anything from the kitchen?”

“Get Jeff a drink,” Britta says. She’s staring over Jeff’s shoulder at her phone screen. “Craig just implied that he might be bringing one of his anthropomorphic dalmatian friends as his date.”

Jeff stiffens a little and Troy pauses. “But I thought… Jeff wasn’t gonna be drinking while you’re pregnant?”

Britta shrugs. “He gets a pass for the wedding. Plus he already had scotch today.”

“Troy!” Jeff hisses, “You said you wouldn’t say anything!”

“I didn’t!” He insists, widening his eyes and taking a couple steps back.

“He didn’t,” Britta confirms, calmly. “I can smell it on you.”

“...Oh.” Jeff sends him an apologetic glance before turning sheepishly to Britta. “But… wait, how? It was only one glass?”

“It’s common for pregnant women to experience a heightened sense of smell as early as the first trimester,” Abed says. He has his laptop out now, clicking around on some editing software that Troy doesn’t understand or even recognize. “It’s called hyperosmia.”

Britta smiles and shoots him a finger gun, which Abed returns as cutely as ever. Then she leans against Jeff’s shoulder. 

“Which is how I know that you really didn’t drink until today,” she says. “So I don’t mind. I’d be drinking right now if I could.”

“Wow,” Jeff says. “I knew there was some reason I loved you.”

Britta rolls her eyes a little, but shifts closer to him when he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. And it’s nice to see, honestly. It just also makes him a little squirmy inside as he glances down at Abed, wishing he could do the exact same thing to him.

That’s a problem for another time. For now, he just heads off to the kitchen to fix Jeff his Macallan neat. 

And maybe a quick shot for himself, too.

  
  


*

“This would be a great zombie apocalypse rendezvous point,” Abed says.

They’re in the rec room, both changed into their pajamas and setting up the fold-out couch. Troy doesn’t think they’ll actually be sleeping for a while, but they’d retired to the basement after everyone else had plodded off to their bedrooms. Plus, he’ll never say no to spending more time cuddling with Abed.

That is… if that’s on the table, he reminds himself. Just because they used to do it doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to happen again.

“You know, you’re right,” Troy agrees. “I didn’t even think about that when I was buying this place. And now we won’t even have to bargain our way onto someone else’s boat. We’ll have our own. You’ll need to get out here immediately, though.”

Abed nods solemnly. “Apocalypse lore does suggest that LA will be one of the first and hardest-hit epicenters, and therefore one of the hardest places to flee from if I wait too long. It’s one of the city’s three major downsides.”

Troy smiles to himself. Abed might be a big-shot director now, but he’s still Troy’s Abed. That’s very, very good to know.

“Three?” He asks. “What are the other two?”

“Proximity to wildfires,” Abed says, ticking off his fingers. “And, you’re not there.”

That makes Troy freeze up. Meanwhile, Abed simply fluffs up a pillow and tosses it onto the bed, like what he’s just said is no big deal.

He watches Abed crawl under the covers once he’s satisfied with how his side is set up, then glance up at Troy expectantly. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Troy shakes his head a little and tosses his own pillow onto the bed before crawling in as well. “Nothing. Just spaced out for a second.”

Abed probably doesn’t believe him, but he also doesn’t push it. However, what Abed says next is something that he isn’t prepared to hear at all.

“I guess it was childish of me to think, but when you came to see me in LA… I kind of thought you were gonna stay for good.”

Troy’s pretty sure he can feel his heart beating in his throat. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to tell Abed that he did too—that he absolutely thought he’d stay in LA. But that was when he also thought that he’d be able to get off the boat and run straight into Abed’s arms and kiss him and cry and confess his undying love, all at once, and then spend the rest of forever with his soulmate. 

What he’d actually gotten was a text from Abed at the LA point of entry: _Don’t worry about booking a hotel, btw. My boyfriend’s out of town on business, so there’s plenty of room in my apartment._ Followed by the most painful week of his life, plastering on a fake smile and sleeping on Abed’s couch and trying so, so hard to have fun, or at least to convince Abed that he was having a good time. He doesn’t know if he succeeded. He’d fled back to Colorado when the week was up, and they haven’t really spoken about it since. 

“You did?” He asks eventually. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears.

Abed nods. Then he’s silent for a while, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna tell you something,” he says after some time. “But can you promise that you won’t get upset?”

No. Troy probably can’t promise that, and friends aren’t supposed to lie. But he also can’t risk Abed not telling him something important, so he nods.

Abed nods back. “About a month before you got back, when you told us you were on your way home, the weirdest thing happened. Real Abed came back to life. I didn’t know that was possible, but you and Britta must’ve pulled me from the lava and cloned me while the last remnants of my soul were still clinging to my body. So for that whole month, Real Abed and Clone Abed were constantly fighting for control, and it was really bad. My brain felt like it was getting wired and rewired over and over again. I thought I might _actually_ go insane this time. But luckily I figured it out: finding out that you were coming home had caused the malfunction, which meant that as soon as you came back, and I actually saw you, it would fix itself. And I could be Real Abed again. So I just had to hang in there and wait.”

Troy stares at him, his stomach churning. Already, he doesn’t know if he likes how this story is gonna end. He slips his hands under the covers so Abed won’t see how they’re shaking. 

“Abed,” he says, once he finally feels like he can speak again without bursting into tears. “Are you saying… you actually lived as a clone the entire time I was gone? And you still are?”

Abed blinks back at him, his expression unreadable. “I’m saying… it didn’t fix itself as soon as I saw you, like I thought it would. Real Abed and Clone Abed… they were still fighting the entire time you were there. There was this one point where it seemed like Real Abed was gonna win. I remember sitting on my bed with my phone in my hand, thinking I was gonna call Mark and break it off. I’d figured out by then that he was the only tether Clone Abed had left. And then…”

Abed trails off. 

“And then what?” Troy chokes out. He doesn’t care that he’s on the verge of tears now, and Abed can almost definitely tell. 

Abed takes a deep breath. 

“AndthenyouwalkedintomyroomandtoldmeyoubookedyourticketbacktoColoradoandyouwereleavingthenextday,” he says all at once, so fast that Troy doesn’t even understand him the first time.

“And then you walked into my room and told me you booked your ticket back to Colorado and you were leaving the next day,” he repeats, slower, after Troy looks at him in pure confusion. “And Real Abed had a moment of weakness, and Clone Abed took advantage of it. So by the time I dropped you off at LAX the next day, he had complete control again.”

Troy is pretty sure that he’s crying. He thinks his cheeks feel wet. Everything Abed’s saying right now is overwhelming and confusing and granted, he’s kind of always felt that way whenever he’s gone too deep into trying to understand how Abed’s mind works, but this time it’s personal, too. So he has to keep going.

“But you’re talking about Clone Abed like he’s a separate person,” Troy says. “What does that mean?”

Abed stays quiet. There’s a thoughtful, faraway look in his eye and as much as it’s driving Troy crazy, he forces himself to wait it out.

“It means that Clone Abed is gone now,” Abed says eventually. “As soon as I made eye contact with you getting out of the car today, Real Abed swooped in and blasted him out, like the time Kickpuncher kickpunched Punchkicker off the top of that blimp.” He closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. “And… it feels good to be Real Abed again,” he whispers. “Completely. My brain isn’t split into two personas fighting each other anymore. It’s finally just me, and that’s because of you. So thank you.”

At this point, Troy can’t stop himself from bursting into tears. He does manage to throw himself at Abed just before he does, though, knocking him backwards as he buries his head into his shoulder and starts sobbing. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t even know exactly what he’s saying—something about how he’s sorry for leaving and sorry for leaving again and sorry he’s been so stupid and sorry he never told Abed how much he missed him, how much he felt like he was dying inside the entire time they were apart, how-

“Troy?” Abed whispers. He’s holding him tightly, just like he’s always done. After a while, he manages to sit them both up again and pull Troy into his lap so he can rock him gently and stroke his hair and it’s all so familiar. “Um, not to make this about me, but you’re kind of scaring me, so can we do that deep breathing thing?”

He knows what Abed means, and he nods. 

“Okay,” Abed sighs, sounding relieved. Troy leans into him, closes his eyes and does his best to match his breathing to Abed’s. It takes a while for him to manage a 4-second inhale, 7-second hold, and 8-second exhale, but they get there eventually. Sobs die to hiccups which die to nothing and everything is quiet and still, like the wind and waves settling after a storm. 

“You didn’t have to apologize for that stuff,” Abed says quietly. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty about it. None of it was your fault.”

“I left.” Troy says—or mumbles, rather. He can’t speak very clearly with his cheek smushed against Abed’s shoulder, but he also can’t move away.

Abed laughs hollowly. “Most normal, sane people can handle stuff like that. Or, at least, they can manage without hallucinating lava and pretending to die and creating an entire separate clone persona.”

“I had to pretend to be a clone too, remember,” he says in a small voice. 

“But you didn’t get trapped inside your clone,” Abed explains. “My point is, you can’t take the blame for when my brain does crazy-person stuff.”

They’ll need to have a talk about that later. About Abed calling himself crazy, because Troy doesn’t think that’s fair. But he’s so drained, he doesn’t think now’s the time.

“I did want to stay with you in LA,” he says instead. His heart gradually begins pumping a little faster. If he doesn’t confess to Abed now, he’s not sure he ever will. “I really did. I only left because-”

“Troy,” Abed stops him. Troy pulls back and looks at him pleadingly, because he needs to say it. But Abed gives him the exact same expression, and it makes him weak.

“I think I know what you’re gonna say,” Abed continues. “And there’s something I need to say to you, too. But a lot of stuff happened today and I’m really, really tired. Like, emotionally. So can we wait to say it? Please?” 

_There’s something I need to say to you, too._ What does that mean? If Abed really knows what he’s going to say, and he’s not pushing Troy away right now, that’s probably a good sign. But if there’s something he needs to tell Troy, too… no. He can’t get his hopes up. The possibility of Abed feeling the same way feels too good to be true.

“Okay,” Troy nods. “But I can’t wait too long, or else I might explode from keeping it in.”

“Biologically, that’s impossible,” Abed says. Troy looks at him pointedly, and he concedes. “Okay. Not too long.”

He rests his head down on Abed’s chest and lets his eyes slip shut, while Abed shifts down a little further so he’s laying on his back. 

“Sleep?” Troy asks.

Abed hums his agreement. “Good idea.”

Just moments later he starts to drift off, still wrapped around Abed with no desire to move. And just before he slips fully out of consciousness, he feels a light, soft pressure on his forehead that just might be a kiss. 

Or it could just be wishful thinking. Troy supposes he’ll know soon enough.

  
  


*

  
  


The next day is humid and disgusting, but that doesn’t stop Annie from having them traipse all over the property, mapping borders and nailing down stakes as placeholders. Troy gazes longingly out at the lake, holding one end of the measuring tape while Annie paces down the backyard, measuring out one of the edges of where the tent’s going to go. God, a swim would be so good right now. The water would be so nice and cool and refreshing on his hot, sweaty skin, and— _oh, hey, there’s Abed._

He’s walking along the shore with Britta, occasionally holding up his camera at different angles and different spots. Probably getting a feel for the natural lighting, or something. It’s nice to see Abed walking around with a camera again just like he used to at Greendale, documenting their various misadventures and filming low-budget remakes of their favorite movies.

Granted, he knows that when Jeff and Britta asked Abed to be their videographer, they’d explicitly told him to _not_ actually film anything until the wedding day. Past events have taught them that as soon as Abed decides to film a documentary, the universe decides to descend into chaos, and they can’t risk that happening. Still, he feels a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

“Distracted?” Annie asks. He jumps at her voice, because when the hell did she walk up to him? She casts him a slightly amused look, and he sighs, letting go of the measuring tape that they’re obviously done with so he can rub his hands over his face.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“ _Me_ shut up?” She says. “You have your yearning face on. That’s louder than anything I could’ve said.”

“I’m dying,” Troy says flatly. “He’s here and he’s single and hot and I’m dying.”

Annie hums and places a sympathetic hand on his back.

She’d been the first person he’d come out to, in an emotional-yet-spotty cell phone conversation while he was docked in Albania. Part of the reason for that being how she’d come out as a lesbian in their groupchat just a few weeks before, so obviously she'd be kind about it. And the other reason being… well, she’d lived with him and Abed. Something told him she might not be surprised about him realizing he was gay, and the catalyst for that realization being that he was in love with his best friend.

For the record, she wasn't.

She’d given him the courage to come out to everyone else, Abed included, though he’d saved him for last. Knowing now that Abed had been pretty openly bisexual for the entirety of their friendship, but Troy had just been wrestling with too much—what was that phrase Britta taught him? Oh, _internalized homophobia—_ to notice, he shouldn’t have been so scared to tell him. At least it’s all in the past now.

“We talked last night, me and him,” he says, lowering his voice just to be safe. “It was... intense. I almost told him I love him.”

Annie widens her eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him behind a nearby tree so that they’re out of sight as well as earshot.

“Almost?” She whispers. “What stopped you?”

Troy scratches the back of his neck. “He was overwhelmed already, after some of the stuff he told me. He needed us to stop.”

“Stuff he told you?” Annie asks, her expression morphing from surprise to worry. “Is he okay?”

“I think so,” Troy nods. “We just… have some stuff to air out.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He sighs.

“A lot of feelings,” he elaborates. “That we’ve both been repressing. For a long time. I don’t know if his are the same as mine, but…” he glances over at the lake again. “I hope so. I _really_ hope so.”

“I really hope so too,” Annie says. Her expression softens. “He's your person, you know. Everyone does. It’s just that you happened to be the last one to figure it out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts out a self-deprecating laugh and shakes his head. “I know. Embarrassing. Now can we finish measuring? I’m gonna literally melt if I have to stay out in the sun much longer.”

“Okay, you big baby,” Annie reaches out and grabs his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “Let’s go measure out the parking area.”

  
  


*

Annie takes mercy on him eventually and says they’ve done enough for the day. Troy can’t get inside fast enough. He heads for the basement because it’s the coldest room in the house, taking the stairs two at a time. 

He turns the corner once he’s all the way downstairs to see Abed already on the sofa bed, staring intently at his laptop screen.

“Hey,” he says carefully, not wanting to startle Abed too much. Abed looks up and Troy’s pretty sure he sees his eyes soften.

“Hey,” Abed replies, shutting his laptop and setting it on the floor. “How was mapping out the wedding with Annie?”

Troy sighs and flops down next to Abed. “Grueling. I can’t believe the heat didn’t bother her. I guess the south makes you immune or something.” He looks up at Abed, who’s looking down at him with a certain familiar fondness. “How was the video stuff you were doing with Britta?”

“Oh,” Abed lies down next to him. “We weren’t doing video stuff. Well, I kind of was. She just wanted to walk with me and ask me a bunch of questions about my mom.”

Troy furrows his eyebrows and rolls his head over to face Abed. “Why your mom?”

Abed purses his lips a little and sighs out through his nose. “She’s having some anxiety. About the baby. She doesn’t wanna screw up and give the kid mommy issues, like my mom did with me. I mean, she didn’t explicitly say that, but that's the implication, don't you think? So basically she wanted me to tell her what I wish my mom would’ve been like. Because I used to talk about her in our therapy sessions sometimes, so I think she knew I had some stuff to say.”

“Abed,” Troy says softly. “That’s… isn’t that stuff hard to talk about?”

“A little,” Abed shrugs. “It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. It gets easier to talk about, the older I get. Mostly it made me happy, that she wants to be a good mom. And that she trusted me enough to ask me.”

Troy nods, mostly just to himself. 

“That stuff you said yesterday,” he says, after a quiet moment. “About how you and Jeff bonded over how you’re afraid of people leaving… was that because of me? Did you think I might not come back? Because your mom didn’t?”

He lets Abed think for a little while about that. He rolls his head over towards Troy, brows furrowed.

“I…” he starts, and Troy can tell he’s trying to choose his words carefully. “I really… _wanted_ to believe that you were gonna come back.”

“But you didn’t know,” Troy whispers. It’s more of a statement than a question; he knows the answer. Still, when Abed shakes his head, it makes his heart hurt.

“I always knew I was gonna come back,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, even though there’s no one else around to hear them. “I guess I should've been clearer about that before I left, but I just feel like you should know now, for what it's worth. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t miss you.”

Abed blinks. Troy thinks his eyes look a little wet, but he doesn’t comment.

“Can I hold your hand again?” He asks. He internally sighs in relief when Abed nods.

So he reaches in between them, this time with no hesitation, and laces their fingers together. Then he lifts them so the back of Abed’s hand is gently resting against his cheek. Troy wants to kiss it, but… one step at a time. 

Abed lets out a soft sigh, and it sounds content, and Troy’s heart lifts a bit. Then Abed’s eyes slip shut, so Troy does the same.

“I always hated letting go when we did this at Greendale,” Abed says. “My hand always felt empty and cold for a long time after.”

When Troy opens his eyes, Abed’s staring right into them. It makes Troy’s breath hitch. He’s always felt like Abed could see straight through to his soul, and right now is no exception. He should probably feel nervous about that, but he doesn’t. He just looks right back at him, and if Abed sees all the love and longing and desperate want bottled up inside, so be it. Sooner or later, he’ll know.

There’s a soft buzzing noise nearby, which Troy realizes is Abed’s phone vibrating on the mattress in between them. Abed picks it up with his free hand.

“It’s Jeff,” he says, as he reads over the screen. “He says to come upstairs, we’re going out to dinner.”

Troy doesn’t really want to leave his safe little Abed bubble. But then again, does he ever? He’ll have to make do. So he sits up and Abed follows. Troy feels him loosening his grip on his hand as they stand up and he frowns, glancing back at Abed and holding his hand even tighter. 

“You don’t need to let go,” he says.

Abed tilts his head to the side. “But-”

“You said you always hated letting go,” Troy says. “I did, too. So let’s not let go. There’s no reason we have to yet.”

Their joined hands swing slightly in between them as Abed stands there contemplating.

“Okay… Cool,” he says quietly. He still seems pretty deep in thought, tightening his grip on Troy’s hand again as they walk upstairs. “Cool cool cool.”

 _Yeah,_ Troy thinks as he brushes his thumb over the back of Abed’s hand, _it really is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> comments make my day ❤️
> 
> find me @[lgbtrobed](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> [[chapter 2 reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/632327629242007552)]


	3. Chapter 3

Troy can’t keep his hands to himself.

He hasn’t been able to all night, ever since he’d started holding Abed’s hand before dinner. He’d held it for the entire car ride to the restaurant and sat closer than necessary to Abed in their booth; he’d held his hand under the table and when they both absolutely had to let go so that they could actually eat, Abed had hooked his ankle around Troy’s, like he couldn’t stand not having a point of contact. Troy knows that feeling all too well.

He’d been equally handsy during the car ride home, and as much as Abed can mostly maintain his usual composure, Troy can tell he’s starting to feel restless by the time they make it to the house. He suppresses a satisfied grin as he bids everyone goodnight while Abed’s already tugging him towards the basement door. If the others think it’s strange, they don’t mention it. He’s sure he’ll be fielding some questions tomorrow, but right now all he cares about is following Abed down the stairs.

“This is weird even for us, right?” Abed asks once they’re safely in the basement and Troy’s pressed him back against the wall, arms around his waist as he nuzzles gently into his neck. Abed drapes his arms loosely around Troy’s shoulders, even as he speaks in careful, shaky breaths. “Not in a bad way, but it didn’t used to feel like this, did it?”

Troy closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I felt this desperate before."

He tucks his head further into the crook of Abed's shoulder while he thinks on it a little more. "I think I used to take touching you for granted," he adds after a little bit, "Because you were always around. But then I left and suddenly I couldn’t have you whenever I wanted, and that was when I realized…” 

He trails off. He doesn’t know how to keep talking without saying That Thing that he really needs to tell Abed, that Abed might not be ready to hear yet, and Troy has to be patient. He has to remember that the Abed he’s holding right now was as good as dead for a long time and that there’s a lot for him to readjust to. 

That’s fine, as long as he wants Troy there with him while he’s doing it. And Troy’s pretty sure that he does, if the way that Abed leans into him and fists his hands into the fabric of Troy’s shirt is any indication.

“You can say it soon,” Abed says, like he’s just read Troy’s mind. That relaxes him.

“M’kay,” Troy nods. He keeps his arms around Abed as he walks them back towards the sofa bed, flopping down onto it once he reaches the edge. Abed huffs out a laugh as he topples over with him, hands still clutching Troy’s shoulders. 

“You know,” he says as he’s attempting to shift them into a more comfortable position without letting go of Abed, “These past two days have been really intense. We haven’t gotten to do any classic Troy-and-Abed shenanigans. Don’t we kind of owe it to you, now that you’re Real Abed again?”

That brings a little bit of light to Abed’s eyes.

“Blanket fort?” They say at the same time, breaking out into matching grins and pointing at each other. “Jinx. Double jinx. Triple jinx.” 

Now _this_ is much more like them. Troy could just about cry, he’s so happy. He manages to keep the tears at bay, though, just resting his hands lightly on Abed’s hips.

“Cool. Cool cool cool. We should start,” Abed says quietly. Troy nods in agreement.

“Mhm. We should.”

But he doesn’t move. Abed doesn’t either.

Except… then he does. 

It’s so slow that Troy doesn’t even notice it at first: Abed’s hands sliding gently up over his shoulders until he’s cupping Troy’s face, and he actually has to make a conscious effort not to nuzzle his palm. And then Abed leans in and presses his lips to Troy’s cheek in a soft, sweet kiss. Troy’s eyes flutter shut, just for a second, before Abed pulls back.

“Right,” he says abruptly, breaking eye contact and scrambling off of Troy’s lap. Troy shakes his head to pull himself out of his stupor, cheeks still burning as he looks up at Abed, who seems newly invigorated. “Here we go. This thing isn’t gonna build itself.”

  
  


*

“I don’t have a great movie selection here,” Troy sighs in discontent as he looks at the DVD shelf. “Most of the good ones are at my actual house.” God, what kind of idiot is he that he didn’t think to stock up on good movies when _Abed,_ of all people, was gonna be visiting? “We could watch…” he scans the shelf a couple more times for something halfway decent, “ _...National Treasure?”_

“Nicolas Cage still triggers my fight-or-flight,” Abed says. “It’s better than it used to be, but I still need to be in a highly controlled environment to watch any of his stuff. But that’s okay. I brought something special.”

Troy turns around curiously. 

Abed’s sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed, now piled with pillows and sheltered in an elaborate drapery of sheets, digging through his backpack. With the lights in the room halfway dimmed, Troy can almost imagine they’re back in their old apartment, or even Abed’s dorm room. All that’s missing, really, are their special adventure pajamas. But he’s alright with having outgrown that particular aspect, if only because Abed’s new bedtime ensemble seems to be boxer briefs and an Inspector Spacetime t-shirt that Troy’s pretty sure was his at one point. And that’s a very appealing sight. He blinks hard a couple times to stop himself from leering just as Abed’s pulling something out of his backpack: a clear CD case holding a plain, unmarked disc. Troy raises an eyebrow at it as he climbs onto the bed.

“Back at my first PA job, one of my coworkers was an uncredited extra in _Kickpuncher: Origins,”_ Abed says. “Doesn’t sound familiar, right? That’s because it never came out. It was supposed to be a straight-to-DVD prequel, but it never made it past post-production. The director had some kind of nervous breakdown over how bad it was. But,” he waves the CD case around ceremoniously, “I called my old coworker, got some strings pulled, and you, Troy Barnes, are now cordially invited to the world premiere of _Kickpuncher: Origins.”_

Troy’s jaw drops, because of course… of course Abed would manage something as totally awesome as this. And Abed must know he’s pulled off something great, because there’s the prettiest little twinkle in his eyes. 

“We’re gonna need popcorn for this,” Troy says in a mock-serious tone before jumping up and heading for the stairs. “Set it up while I’m gone, but don’t you dare start without me!”

“Duh-doy,” Abed calls back. 

It’s been a long time since Troy’s felt this giddy.

  
  


*

The biggest bowl that Troy can find in the kitchen is large enough to fit two whole bags of microwave popcorn, so he figures they might as well go all in. He’s just placing the second bag in the microwave when he hears footsteps. 

Britta’s beside him a moment later, yawning as she opens the refrigerator door. 

“Oh, hey, Troy,” she greets him tiredly as she leans forward a bit, obviously rummaging around for something specific. She nods over at the microwave. “Having a movie night with Abed?”

Troy nods. And since it’s Britta, he doesn’t even bother trying to suppress a smile.

“You two were pretty touchy tonight,” she says in a terrible attempt at subtlety. She comes out of the fridge with a tupperware container full of strawberries, which she opens up and sets down on the kitchen island. Then she takes a bite of one, giving him a measuring glance as she does. “So,” she says in between slow chews, “How are things going with you guys?”

“Okay,” Troy sighs, “Just to be clear, does _everyone_ in this house right now know that I’m in love with Abed? Except for… y’know, Abed?”

“Duh-doy,” Britta says, turning around again and grabbing a jar of peanut butter out of one of the cupboards, along with a spoon from the silverware drawer. “Anyway, you’re not answering the question.”

Troy thinks for a second to the sound of kernels popping. “It’s good, I think,” he says. “Things between us are sort of more complicated than I expected but not, like, in a bad way?” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure things are going in the right direction. Just… really slowly.” 

“Nothing wrong with slow and steady,” Britta tells him. He watches her scoop a spoonful of peanut butter out of the jar, slather it onto another strawberry and pop it in her mouth. “Pregnancy craving,” she explains with a shrug when she sees him looking.

He nods. A few more kernels pop in the background.

“He told me what you guys talked about today, by the way,” he says. “You know you’re gonna be a good mom, right? You and Jeff are both gonna be great.”

Her face morphs into something a little more serious. “I want to feel confident about that,” she sighs. “I just… we were reading one of those _What to Expect_ books last night, and it said the baby’s the size of a plum now. A _plum._ That’s so tiny, Troy. And I just got to thinking about how small and fragile this baby is gonna be when it’s born. And _helpless._ It’s gonna depend on me and Jeff for everything. That’s so much responsibility. I mean, any little mistake could end up having huge consequences, and-”

“Hey,” he interrupts her gently. “Britta.”

She stops and composes herself.

“You’re gonna love the baby no matter what and do the best you absolutely can, right?”

She nods a little. “Yeah. Of course.”

He smiles and shrugs. “Then you already nailed the most important part of being a parent.”

The beeping of the microwave startles both of them. Troy turns to take the bag out and when he turns back, Britta’s smiling kind of sadly. 

“When Abed told you what we talked about,” she says carefully. “Did he seem upset? I didn’t want to overstep… and I definitely didn’t want to imply that I wouldn’t want my kid to be like him. I’ll be lucky if this baby turns into an Abed-style adorable genius, you know?”

“He just said he was happy that you want to be a good mom,” Troy assures her. “And that you felt like you could trust him enough to ask.” He pauses to think. “You know, I never thought he blamed his mom for a lot of stuff. He idealized her, kind of. It always seemed like he blamed himself for her leaving, and that was it. The fact that he told you he wishes she’d done things differently… that seems like a good sign. Like maybe he’s starting to realize that he deserves better. That he deserves love.”

“The Troy Barnes Effect,” Britta says lightly. She gathers up her strawberries and peanut butter with another yawn. “Anyway, I’m gonna take this to bed with me. You and Abed have fun, okay?”

“Okay,” Troy agrees softly. “Night, Britta.”

  
  


*

They begin with some innocent enough hand-holding. The movie starts off slow, with a premise that makes absolutely no sense, and that’s _saying_ something for the Kickpuncher franchise. But that doesn’t deter Abed from giving it the same rapt attention he gives any other movie, which is something that Troy loves and loves and loves about him. He can practically see the cogs turning in his brain as his eyes flicker over the screen, picking up on details that Troy doesn’t, that he’ll recap another time.

About thirty minutes in, Troy not only understands but sympathizes with the director and his rumored nervous breakdown. He’s about to say so to Abed, but it just so happens that Abed chooses that exact moment to nudge his way under Troy’s arm. So he decides not to speak up and risk breaking the spell; he’ll tell him later. For now, he just wraps his arm around Abed’s shoulders and feels a light fluttering in his chest when Abed contentedly sighs.

And then there’s the sex scene. 

“This,” Abed says with his eyes still fixed on the screen, “is _terrible.”_

“It makes our Kickpuncher sex scene look like a Disney movie,” Troy agrees.

Granted, their sex scene hadn’t been explicit at all. They hadn’t even kissed; just cut to a shot of them underneath the covers, writhing around and making sex noises. Still, Troy blushes just remembering the warmth of being so close to Abed, and how many times they had to reshoot because they kept dissolving into laughter over how ridiculous they sounded. God, how did he not figure his feelings out all those years ago? Internalized homophobia or not, wasn’t it kind of ridiculously obvious?

“Why is Kickpuncher beeping so much?” Troy asks. “Did they really have to make him make robot noises during sex? He’s only half robot, couldn’t they have leaned more into the human half for this part?”

“There’s a lot of layers to this,” Abed says, and honestly, he’s only half joking. Absurd as it all is, Troy can’t deny that there’s a lot going on, to say the least. He’s glad about it, though. Nothing like laughing at a poorly acted sex scene to dissolve some of the nervous energy starting to build up inside him.

The movie ends in a cacophony of explosions set to a mournful, orchestral score. Troy squints at the screen in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he says as the screen fades to black. “How is it supposed to make sense that the prequel ends with Kickpuncher dying?”

“Maybe it was supposed to be the first in a series of prequels,” Abed guesses. “Or maybe whoever wrote this had a fundamental misunderstanding of the words ‘prequel’ and ‘origins.’ Both seem equally likely.”

“Well,” Troy says, “that was a disaster.”

He only realizes that Abed’s head is resting on his shoulder when he feels him nod in agreement. “A disgrace to the entire Kickpuncher Cinematic Universe.”

And then Troy turns his head and Abed’s _right_ there, with his eyes all pretty and his lips all kissable and the dramatic, emotional half of his brain feels like he’ll die if they don’t start making out right now. The more practical, reasonable half holds him back just enough. 

“Thanks for getting it,” Troy says quietly. His forehead brushes against Abed’s just for a second. “That was really awesome of you.” Abed looks into his eyes like he’s searching, and that’s nothing new—Abed’s searching, always, _always_ searching—but it still makes him forget to breathe momentarily. “It’s cool that you can pull this kind of stuff off. You’re kind of a big deal now, aren’t you?”

“A bigger deal than I was before, I guess,” Abed shrugs. Troy knows he’s being modest. A Sundance Feature Film Award and a Golden Globe—that’s more than a big deal, and Abed most definitely knows that. But, Troy realizes, maybe Abed doesn’t want to be a big deal around him. Maybe he just wants to be Abed. That’s sweet. It makes Troy want to kiss him even more.

“It’s late,” Abed sighs, before Troy can even grapple with whether he ought to lean in or not. That’s probably for the best. 

He doesn’t know which one of them falls asleep first, but Abed spoons him the entire time.

  
  


*

It’s pitch black in the basement when Troy wakes up, groggy and slightly disoriented. He feels his heart racing, but he isn’t sure why. 

_Oh,_ he thinks when he hears a loud crack of thunder outside, _that’s why._ The noise must have woken him up. He breathes out in relaxation and burrows back down under the covers. Since being on the boat, one of the things Troy’s come to appreciate more than ever is good shelter during a rainstorm. He lets his eyes slip shut and yawns, reaching his arm out in search of Abed’s warm body to pull close.

But he lands on nothing but a cold, empty mattress.

“...Abed?” He says quietly, patting around the bed to see if he’s just shifted further away, but to no avail. So he reaches down onto the floor for his phone, fumbling with it for a moment before managing to turn on the flashlight. He squints as he shines it around the room.

Nope. Still no Abed. 

Another crash of thunder startles him and suddenly he gets an idea, stepping tentatively out of bed and heading up the stairs. 

“Abed,” he whispers as he pads into the kitchen, in case he’s just getting some water, but the kitchen is empty too. So is the living room, so is the foyer, so is the hall bathroom. The rain outside is practically coming down in sheets; Troy can hear it pounding against the windows and sees just how heavy it is during a brief flash of lightning. 

That only leaves one more place to check, really. The least practical place to be during a storm; and yet the place that Troy’s Abed-senses have told him from the start that he’s most likely to be.

Sure enough, as Troy makes his way up the spiral staircase, he sees that the outside light is on, so he leaves his phone inside and steps out the French doors, onto the porch and into the torrential rain. 

“Abed,” he says, trying to keep his voice down as best he can while still trying to make sure he’s heard over the pouring rain and thunder.

Abed doesn’t turn.

He’s sitting on the edge of the porch, legs dangling out from in between the poles and looking out over the churning lake, his pajamas completely soaked. Very dramatic. Troy wonders as he walks towards him, shivering as his own clothes are saturated right away, if this is some kind of homage, or if there’s something wrong here. Hopefully the former. 

“Hey, Abed,” he comes up next to him and then sits down with a small splash, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the porch as well. That finally seems to get Abed’s attention as he turns his head, looking a little bit startled. 

“Oh,” Abed blinks some of the water presumably out of his eyes, “hey, Troy. What are you doing up here?”

Troy stares at him. “Funny. I should be asking you.”

“You didn’t have to come up,” Abed tells him with a shrug, and now Troy knows that Inspector Spacetime shirt was _definitely_ his at one point, because it’s starting to slide down off Abed’s shoulders. “I’m not doing anything dangerous. Just sitting.”

“Most people don’t sit outside in thunderstorms,” Troy points out, kicking his legs a bit. The air out here is muggy and almost oppressive, which makes the cool rain a rather welcoming sensation. Of course, he’d rather just be dry, but this could be worse.

“Sometimes I do stuff most people don’t do,” Abed says casually, which Troy almost laughs at, because that’s just about the understatement of the century.

“I guess,” Troy says. “I don’t remember you doing this before, though.”

For a moment, Abed doesn’t answer, so Troy takes some time to look out over the lake as well. It’s kind of comforting, being so high up above the aggressive current. He saw much worse currents out at sea, getting caught in them more often than not. It’s cool to look into it without the fear of being swept under. 

“It’s something I started doing after you left,” Abed says, finally. Troy looks over at him again, and maybe his vision is just playing tricks on him, but does Abed look a little red around the eyes? Has he been crying? It’s impossible to tell in the rain, but even the possibility of it makes Troy frown. 

He waits for Abed to elaborate. Partially because he doesn’t really know what to ask next, and partially because even if he did know, he’s not sure he’d actually have the courage to say it.

“The first few months, I’d have nightmares about you getting caught in storms and capsizing and drowning and just all this other horrible stuff happening to you,” Abed speaks quickly, like he’s embarrassed by what he’s saying. “It was bad. I was getting practically no sleep. And, you know, everyone told me I was being irrational and that of course you were gonna be perfectly safe. But I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

Troy can’t think of much to say or do besides reach out and take Abed’s hand. So that’s exactly what he does, lacing their fingers securely.

“So, I don’t remember my reasoning, exactly,” Abed continues. “But there was this bad thunderstorm one night keeping me up. All I could think about was you out there on the ocean, getting caught in it. And that didn’t even make sense, because you wouldn’t have been getting the same storm, you were too far away. But I still couldn’t get it out of my head, so I got up and went outside and just… walked. For a really long time, in the dark. I didn’t even bring my phone or keys or anything with me. I even forgot to put on shoes. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.” He glances down at their joined hands. “I think I was trying to convince myself that storms weren’t as scary as I was making them out to be. And that if I could be outside, walking around like nothing was wrong, then you’d be totally fine if you were ever caught in one.” He pauses briefly to take a breath. “So I started doing it whenever it rained, whether it was a drizzle or a total downpour. Some days Annie would be worried about how I was acting, so I’d just stand outside the building so she could see that I was fine. But most days I’d go walking around.”

“Abed…” Troy whispers. His throat feels tight. He’s not even sure if Abed hears him over the rain, but he does stop for a minute, like he needs to collect himself too. 

“It hardly rains in LA,” he says. “So that made it easier. I got triggered a lot less. But still, any time it did, I’d go out. I had to. Now that you’re back, I guess I shouldn’t feel like I have to anymore. But I woke up to the thunder and walked up here without thinking.”

Troy knows that he’s crying now. He can feel the tears slipping out of his eyes, even though he can’t distinguish them from the raindrops once they’re sliding down his cheeks. Abed’s face looks pretty emotionless, but that’s just because of how they’re sitting. There’s pain behind those eyes that Troy thinks he has to see, no matter how much it’s going to hurt.

He reaches out with his free hand and gently places two fingers on Abed’s cheek, turning his face towards him and breathing shakily as he takes in his expression. Abed has his guarded face on, and that translates to him feeling lost. Lost and scared. He feels a stab of guilt.

“I need to ask you something,” Troy says after some pondering. There’s something that’s been bothering him since yesterday, and now might be the only time he can force himself to ask it. “Can I?”

Abed nods.

“What was the difference between you and Clone Abed?” Troy asks carefully. “I mean… when I was gone, you still missed me. You were still worried. But I thought Clone Abed was supposed to be okay without me.”

Something flickers across Abed’s expression, too fast for Troy to really decipher what it is.

“That was the original idea, I guess,” Abed says. “It was a little ambitious. I mean, Clone Abed still had all the same memories of you, and of us. I think it would’ve been impossible for him to not care about you.”

“What was it, then?” Troy asks. He can hear that his tone is bordering on desperate, but he just wants to understand. “How come the real you came back to life when you heard I was coming home? Why did you and Clone Abed have to fight if you both wanted me back? What did you mean when you said Mark was the only tether that Clone Abed had left when I was with you in LA?”

“That’s too many questions, Troy,” Abed says abruptly. He lets go of Troy’s hand and stands up, pacing quickly back towards the door, then circling back. Troy watches him, watches him run his hands through his hair, watches how the rain keeps his clothes plastered to his skin. “You need to understand that it’s not that simple.” 

Troy stands up carefully. “Abed, please,” he sighs. He rubs his eyes, not that it makes any difference. Rain and tears still mingle on his cheeks. “I need to know. What was the difference?”

Abed stops pacing and lets his arms drop to his sides, shuts his eyes and breathes in shakily. He looks exhausted. Troy watches the raindrops trickle down his nose and cling to his eyelashes.

“Clone Abed wasn’t in love with you,” he says. His tone is so matter of fact that Troy has to run those words over in his head again, to make sure he heard them right. Abed opens his eyes, and Troy’s heart stills. “At least… he wasn’t supposed to be.”

For a minute, Troy just stands there, ears ringing as he looks at Abed through the pouring rain. He’s never looked so vulnerable. Not even during the floor is lava. Not even as he fell to his death. The Abed standing in front of him is laid completely bare, with nothing left to hide behind and that must be scary for him. Troy remembers his own realization that he was in love with Abed. It had been absolutely terrifying. 

Terrifying… but exhilarating. But freeing. But wonderful.

It only takes two strides to close the gap in between them, to press their bodies close together and take Abed’s face in his hands, to hold him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Abed’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he comes closer.

And then, with a clap of thunder, their lips collide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> comments keep me going ❤️
> 
> find me on tumblr @[lgbtrobed](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/) (befriend me pls)
> 
> [[chapter 3 reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/632681693143285760)]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys all so much for the feedback on the last chapter!! it hypes me up so much to know that people are actually reading this thing. i didn’t think i’d have this next chapter up so soon, but because of how the last one ended, this all just kinda came pouring out last night, so! i hope you all enjoy ❤️
> 
> (P.S. note the change in rating for this chapter and feel free to pass if you don’t like smut; skipping over the graphic stuff won’t affect the overall comprehension of the story)

Kissing Abed is like nothing he’s ever felt before. 

Troy, for the record, has kissed a lot of people... but never like this. 

This, right now, is completely different from anything he’s ever done with a girl, which was usually just letting his mind wander while he got slobbered on. It’s different from the experimental kisses with guys around the world, too— which had felt more right, more like something he wanted, but his heart still wasn’t really in it. And the reason why is pretty obvious at the moment. 

Kissing Abed feels like something he’s been waiting to do for his entire life. 

It’s throwing away a load of baggage he didn’t even know he’d been carrying, it’s releasing a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It’s hot and desperate and sweet, and Abed tastes like rain and longing and love. It makes Troy almost angry that he’s wasted so much of his life  _ not  _ kissing Abed, and now that it’s happening, he never wants to stop. Especially when Abed’s lips part and the kiss deepens and his arms slide around Troy’s waist to hold him tight, which is all for the better since his knees feel like they could buckle any second now. 

Troy pulls back for a quick, gasping breath and then doesn’t even have to lean back in again; Abed chases his mouth and catches it expertly, like they’ve done this a million times before. Maybe they have, in other lifetimes, if they’re still rolling with that whole soulmate concept.

He doesn’t realize that they’re moving until Abed’s back hits the wall and brings them to an abrupt halt. Troy moves to wrap his arms tightly around Abed’s shoulders and the noise Abed makes, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, is so devastatingly sexy that Troy has to break away again to catch his breath. His whole body is flushed and hot, even moreso when he opens his eyes and sees Abed’s eyes all dark and dilated and his lips all red and kiss-swollen, and he becomes suddenly very aware of the clothes still clinging to both of their bodies and how much he doesn’t want them to be there.

“I guess I understand why kissing in the rain is such a popular trope,” Abed says. He sounds kind of dazed, like even he can’t focus on the big picture too well when they’re this close. It’s pretty flattering, actually. Troy might be blushing if his blood wasn’t so busy rushing in a different direction. Seems like they both understand that the trope analysis can wait. 

They have more pressing matters to attend to.

  
  


*

  
  


Over the course of Troy’s life, a lot of things have come easily to him. He’s been called a natural. Football, dance, plumbing, AC repair, crying— he’s just gifted, he supposes, at certain seemingly arbitrary things.

Now, he’s very glad to know that he can add  _ sex with men  _ to that list. 

Technically, they can’t go all the way. For obvious reasons, neither of them came prepared with condoms and lube, and that’s a little bit unfortunate, but it’s certainly not the end of the world. It certainly doesn’t stop Troy from seeing stars behind his eyelids when he wraps his legs around Abed’s waist, and Abed grabs onto his hips and slots his hard, leaking cock with Troy’s, rubbing against him with the most incredible friction. 

He’s never seen Abed debase himself so completely, and it’s an absolutely gorgeous sight. Abed, who’s so observant and careful; Abed, who seems to have almost everything figured out; Abed, who literally seems too smart and evolved to fall victim to such lust and desperation and carnal desire—  _ that  _ Abed is absolutely devouring him, mouthing the sensitive skin on his neck and gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, rutting down against him like his life depends on it.

It takes Troy a long time to get his brain and body in sync with the fact that he’s having sex with his best friend who he’s painfully in love with and who, by some miracle, is painfully in love with him too. With the fact that Abed’s hovering over him right now, grinding on him and kissing him and thawing out the bone-deep chill that had set in after being in the rain for so long, warming his body from the inside out and the outside in. His stomach coils in pleasure and his heart feels like it could start beating right out of his chest. It’s too much and not enough all at once and even when Troy does get a hold of himself, he doesn’t manage to do much more than dig his nails into Abed’s back, and gasp and moan and make other various, needy sounds. 

“This is okay, right?” Abed asks in between hot, heavy breaths as he slows down momentarily. “Tell me if it’s going too fast.”

Troy hitches one of his legs further up around Abed’s waist and rolls his hips forward as a response. Abed drops his head down to stifle a soft, shaky  _ “fuck,”  _ against Troy’s shoulder. He bites back a satisfied smirk and then slides his hands gently into Abed’s hair, still damp from the rain and curling around his fingers. 

“It’s way better than okay,” he assures. And then, because he realizes he hasn’t actually said it yet, he tugs gently on Abed’s hair until he looks him in the eyes. “I love you.”

Abed’s gaze softens with his next exhale. “I know,” he whispers. 

(And yes, it’s an homage, and yes, Abed making a Star Wars reference during sex does nothing but make Troy fall in love a little more. Any other reaction would be ludicrous. This is  _ Abed.)  _

He knows he’s getting close when he feels heat pooling near his groin and his thighs shake a little where they’re still wrapped around Abed’s hips, and his breaths come in shorter and faster. He thinks Abed recognizes it too, because he kisses him hard and reaches down, wrapping his hand around both of them, and the increase in pressure and friction pushes Troy over the edge, hot white spurts spilling over Abed’s fist and cock and dripping down onto his stomach as he clings to Abed’s shoulders and whimpers through it.

Abed slows down to give Troy a chance to catch his breath, shifting a little so that he’s not rubbing right against his now spent, oversensitive dick. His body feels like it’s made entirely of water and like he could just melt into the mattress, but he knows he won’t be satisfied until Abed gets off too. So he holds him and kisses him while he keeps rutting against Troy’s hip, the slickness in between them now making for a faster and easier glide and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming too, tucking his head into the side of Troy’s neck and shuddering through it. Troy lets him ride it out while the fire coursing through his own veins cools into a warm, comfortable simmer. He kisses Abed’s temple lightly and brushes a few curls away from his forehead and Abed slowly, carefully rolls off to the side.

For a while, Troy just basks in the way everything feels so pleasantly fuzzy and seriously, if this is how it’s always going to feel, then he doesn’t know why he ever bothered having sex with people who weren’t Abed. Hindsight is 20/20. “So,” he breathes eventually, “we had sex.” 

Abed hums affirmatively and pats him down with one of the towels they’d hastily dried off with before tumbling into bed. Troy watches as he cleans himself off, too, and then curls up to his side. Abed kisses him, then brushes his thumb lightly over Troy’s bottom lip.

“Yeah, we did. Was it everything you dreamed?”

“More, actually,” Troy says, without a doubt. He slides under the covers and waits for Abed to follow before turning out the light, wrapping around him and resting his head down on Abed’s chest.

He falls asleep to the gentle, steady beating of his heart.

  
  


*

  
  


Abed doesn’t like to be woken up by anything that isn’t an alarm clock or his own circadian rhythm. So when Troy opens his eyes in the morning, still in the exact same position as last night, he keeps quiet and uses the alone time to reflect.

He’s never felt more at home than he has with Abed. Not just now, but always. Ever since they’d sat down catty-cornered in Study Room F, back when Troy was still calling him Slumdog Millionaire, there had been something about him that drew Troy in. Maybe it was his unabashed weirdness, maybe it was his wide-eyed curiosity, maybe it was the fact that he didn’t automatically stuff Troy into the stuck-up jock archetype even though that was obviously where he was supposed to go. He wasn’t like anyone Troy had ever met before— he actually wanted to  _ know  _ him.

And maybe it was seeing him care enough to sing a love song to a stupid little lab rat, or maybe it was him sitting in a room for 26 hours because he thought he was helping Annie, or maybe it was when he let Troy win their foot race at the STD fair. But somewhere along the way Abed went from weird, to interesting, to kinda cool, to a friend, to  _ oh, this is my safe space. This is my person.  _

That’s what Troy sees when he looks up at Abed now:  _ mine.  _ Not in a possessive way, but in an  _ I think I was meant to be yours, please, please let me be right  _ way. 

Abed’s eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, and he’s breathing steadily. The sun shines in through the window and onto the bed, just enough so that the freckles on his cheeks light up and that his normally dark hair shows up a warmer, richer brown instead. His undereye circles are more pronounced than they used to be, but Troy figures that was always going to happen. A rising star doesn’t always get the best sleep, and Abed’s not even at his peak yet. Troy can’t wait to see where else he goes. Can’t wait to be by his side, holding his hand and applauding and loving him through whatever he achieves.

...That is, if Abed will have him. 

He realizes with a sinking feeling that at some point, they’ll need to have a talk. Troy lives in Colorado, Abed lives in LA. Abed likes running shows, making movies, and bringing visions to life. Troy likes fixing things, coaching junior football, and seeing his mom on Sundays.

Abed knows who he is. 

Troy went on a global sea voyage and learned that he’s gay, that he can bargain with pirates, and that he acts semi-appropriately around his childhood hero as long as he’s pretending to be a clone. 

Does he know who he  _ is,  _ though?

If he doesn’t, does Abed care? He hadn’t before, but now they’re really grown up, and Abed’s actually making a name for himself. Maybe he won’t want to drag Troy’s dead weight around anymore.

Just then, Abed’s eyes flutter open. That’s for the best, because Troy’s definitely on the verge of a spiral. But as soon as Abed meets his gaze and his mouth turns up into a small, sleepy smile, those anxieties all dissolve. At least for now. 

“Morning,” Abed yawns. His arms tighten around Troy right away and it feels so good that he practically starts purring like a cat. He resists and chooses instead to shimmy up so that their faces are closer together, and Abed does what Troy was hoping he’d do and pulls him the rest of the way so that their lips lock in a slow, sweet kiss. He’s sure their mouths both taste pretty bad, but he can’t even pay attention to that right now. 

_ It’s morning,  _ Troy thinks as he breaks away briefly just for Abed to hum in discontent and pull him back in.  _ It’s sunny and light. The thunder and rain are gone. You said what you said and he’s still here kissing you, he doesn’t think you were a mistake.  _

“G’morning,” Troy replies once Abed finally relents and lets him rest his head back down again. He splays one of his hands out over Abed’s chest and Abed reaches up, taking it in his own. “Did you have any cool dreams last night?”

“I don’t remember, actually,” Abed says. “That’s weird for me.” He smooths his thumb over the back of Troy’s hand and turns that full-attention gaze towards him. “Did you?”

Troy allows himself to get lost in Abed’s eyes for just a bit before he shakes his head. “Nope. Doesn’t matter. This feels better than dreaming, anyway.”

“Cliche,” Abed murmurs into another kiss, “that’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re  _ really  _ hamming this up.”

Troy’s stomach grumbles just then. He sighs. “Now I want ham. We should go up for breakfast before they come looking for us.”

“Yeah,” Abed sits up and Troy goes with him. “We should probably keep quiet about what happened last night, right?” He adds.

Troy’s heart sinks momentarily, until Abed elaborates. “We don’t want to steal Jeff and Britta’s thunder, like that episode of Friends.”

“Oh,” Troy breathes out in relief. “Yeah, sure. We can keep it on the down-low.”

He isn’t able to do any more worrying after that. Abed’s already pulling him in close again.

  
  


*

  
  


“About time,” Annie announces as Troy and Abed finally make their way into the kitchen half an hour later, after a morning round two that leaves Troy all dazed and tingly. She’s sitting at the table, clutching a mug of coffee and poring over something in her wedding scrapbook, which means she doesn’t notice their sex hair and rumpled pajamas, which is good. “What’d you guys do last night, binge-watch the entire  _ Mission: Impossible  _ series?”

_ “Indiana Jones,  _ actually,” Troy quips, as per their agreement to not overshadow Jeff and Britta’s big day by bragging about their totally epic love revelation.

“Oh, give them a break Ann-ie,” Shirley hums. She’s also too busy jotting things down on recipe cards to notice the state that they’re in. “Growing boys need their rest.”

“Growing boys in their late 20s, huh,” Annie mumbles, but Troy doesn’t respond. He appreciates that Shirley’s still looking out for them like she always has.

“Where are Jeff and Britta?” Abed asks as he heads over to the counter, grabbing two mugs and pouring a cup of coffee for each of them. Annie actually does look up at that, so Troy tries his best to not have “I just had sex” written all over his face.

“Doctor’s appointment,” Annie says. “And then I think they’re swinging by Britta’s parents’ house to drop off the new ultrasound photos. They should be back by lunchtime.”

“And then?” Troy asks as Abed presses the mug of coffee into his hands. He takes a sip and smiles around the rim when the taste confirms that Abed still knows exactly how he likes his coffee.

“Well, Troy,” she says with a teasing lilt to her voice, “you’ll be glad to know that we won’t be doing any manual labor today. It rained like crazy last night, which is good because it broke the humidity and now the weather is gonna be perfect for the wedding, but bad because now we have to give the ground a whole day to dry out before we start setting anything up. So, I had to shift the schedule around a bit, but I think I’ve got it all worked out.”

She takes a long drink out of her own coffee mug before looking down at one of her many lists. “Dean Pelton is coming over later to talk with Jeff and Britta about the actual officiation of the ceremony, and to help them write out their vows. Shirley has free reign over the kitchen today, so nobody’s allowed to get in her way. Except for you, Troy, because you’re gonna be her baking assistant-slash-professional taste tester. And Abed, you and I are gonna figure out all the key shots you’ll need for the wedding video, and exactly where we’ll need to position you for each one. Sound good?”

He shares a look with Abed as they all hum and nod their agreement. There’s a knowing little glint in his eye that makes Troy blush.

Something tells him that getting through today is going to be a serious test of his patience. 

  
  


*

  
  


He’d been fairly certain that Annie had assigned him to help Shirley with baking just so that he wouldn’t feel useless again. But it turns out that Shirley does, in fact, want everything sampled. She passes him morsels to taste and jots down notes based on his reactions: which ratio of white to brown sugar works best in the cookies, if the brownies are better with cocoa or melted chocolate, just how many drops of vanilla make for the perfect cake frosting. They spend the most time on that, the wedding cake obviously being the most important part of the entire dessert spread. 

“I think this is my favorite so far,” Troy says, licking the newest frosting sample off of the spatula. It’s light yet creamy, sweet but not over-sweet, and perfectly vanilla-y. “But I don’t think you have to stress about this so much, Shirley. You know everything you make is good.”

“Oh, I know. Who said I was stressed?” Shirley casts him a fake-stern look before taking the spatula back and washing it off. “But I’ve learned ever since I started doing this professionally that there’s always room to grow, no matter how good you think you already are.”

Troy mulls that over while he returns to sifting flour, as per his instructions.

“You and Abed seemed to be in a very good mood this morning,” she says lightly as she joins him at the counter. She’s chopping up a bar of baking chocolate, but Troy has a feeling that may just be a front. He swallows thickly. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, doing his best to mimic her sweetly casual tone of voice. He does a pretty bad job; she casts him a little side smirk. 

“I mean,” she says, keeping her voice down low, “I know a secret romance when I see one. I remember how flustered I felt all the time when Andre and I started seeing each other again, and you and Abed are acting the exact same way.”

Troy cringes. “Is it that obvious?” 

“So you  _ are  _ together!” Shirley whisper-shouts triumphantly. Troy widens his eyes and shushes her anyway. She nods. “Alright, sorry,” her voice shifts into the quiet, excitedly-gossipy tone that their entire study group knows so well. “How long?”

“Just last night,” Troy says carefully. “I don’t… I don’t know if we’re  _ together- _ together. Everything happened so fast and we haven’t had a chance to really talk about it since. And I’m kind of afraid of how that conversation is gonna go.”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to be afraid,” she places a comforting hand on his back. “I’m sure it’ll go just fine.”

“Because we’re soulmates?” Troy asks with a halfhearted laugh, because that’s a nice thought, but not very substantive. “That’s the consensus.” 

Shirley looks at him oddly. “Oh, no. Not because of that. Soulmates aren’t real, honey.”

Troy frowns.

“Don’t give me those puppy eyes,” she adds, “I’m not finished. What makes a relationship work is when two people care about each other enough to do their best and promise themselves to each other every single day. And that’s you and Abed, isn’t it? You always come back to each other.” 

He feels his spirits lift a little bit, tears springing to his eyes in typical Troy Barnes fashion.

“I guess we do,” he whispers. Outside the kitchen window, he sees Abed walk past, following Annie with his camera as she rattles off instructions. It’s a sight he’d choose to see every single day for the rest of his life.

He can only hope, as Abed catches his eye from afar and turns the camera on him, that the feeling is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> comments mean the world to me ❤️
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @[lgbtrobed](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [[chapter four reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/632864602931216384)]


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! sorry for this update taking a bit longer than the others. we’re nearing the end of our journey now, this is the penultimate chapter and the last chapter should be up relatively soon (it’s already in progress!) as always, thank you so so much for reading, it means the world ❤️

There’s something liberating about looking at the sunset.

Troy’s mother tells him that he’s loved sunsets since he was little. That he’d always been fascinated by the vibrant, changing colors. That as soon as he learned to walk, he’d waddle into his parents’ bedroom and pull himself up onto their window seat, and stare outside as everything shifted from light to dark. She’d find him later, curled up into a little snoozing ball, having drifted off to sleep with the rest of the world.

 _I knew then what a special little boy you were,_ she says. _You were happy when it was bright out and you cried when it rained and you always fell asleep when the sun did. So in tune with your surroundings. You bonded with everything you could. That’s a gift for empathy if I ever saw one. Maybe that’s why you’re so good at fixing things._

The thing is, sunsets are pretty, which means girly, which means gay, which meant Troy spending a lot less time looking at sunsets the older he got. Didn’t want to get caught admiring something beautiful and give anyone the wrong idea.

Or give himself the wrong idea, now that he thinks about it.

In the grand scheme of things, his journey towards self-acceptance has only just begun. There’s a lot of stuff from that part of his life that he still carries around on his shoulders.

Ignoring the sunset isn’t one of those things, though. He’s happy about that.

“I always wanted to do this with you.”

Troy startles a little. He’s been so busy walking along the shore of the lake and watching the sky that he hadn’t noticed Abed leaving his side and falling into step behind him. He turns around and Abed lowers his camera slightly, glancing up at him over the viewfinder. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few paces back. 

“Missing lover footage,” Abed says, lifting the camera up again. Troy raises his eyebrows. 

“You mean the footage they play in movies where the hero’s wife or girlfriend is dead or missing?” He asks slowly. “And he sits in the dark and watches her in a home movie or a hologram over and over, and she’s always beautiful and full of love almost to the point of being stupid?”

“Yup,” Abed nods. “I made some for Annie a few years ago. It was actually her idea, I was impressed. Although now that I think about it, that was right around when she was starting to look for internships at the FBI. I don’t know _what_ she thought was gonna happen to her, but.” He shrugs. “Anyway, while I was editing it, I just kept wishing I’d made some of you before you left. You know, in case you didn’t come back.”

That breaks Troy’s heart, though he’s not upset with Abed for thinking it. They’ve already talked about it—the fear of abandonment, the dangers of sea travel. He’d been briefly captured by pirates, for crying out loud. Abed preparing for them to never see each other again… well, it’s sad, but valid. 

“Come on,” he says, trying to keep the mood light for both their sakes, “you have hours of footage of me.”

“I do,” Abed says, and takes a couple steps forward. “But it’s mostly goofing off. This time you’re all moon-eyed.” He looks over the camera at Troy again. “Can you unbutton your shirt the rest of the way?”

“Abed!” He gasps, crossing his arms over his chest to cover himself. He makes his tone as dramatically mock-scandalized as possible to cover up for the fact that he _is_ actually kind of flustered. Abed’s undivided attention can be overwhelming; he forgets that sometimes. 

He collects himself enough to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, leaving it to flutter open in the breeze. 

“Nice,” Abed mumbles.

“This isn’t fair,” Troy pouts, even though the ego boost he gets from Abed checking him out is not insignificant. He walks over and places his hands over Abed’s on the camera. “You’re hogging the camera. What if I want missing lover footage of you too?”

“You have a better camera presence,” Abed says, but he doesn’t pull away. So Troy gently lowers the camera away from his face and leans up to kiss him softly. Abed’s smiling when he pulls back. “See? You gave me a just-off-camera kiss. That’s a missing lover classic. You’re a natural.”

“I’m gonna lose my cool if you just keep calling me your lover like it’s nothing,” Troy says lowly. “I don’t think you realize what that does to me.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Do you… not want to be my lover?” Abed asks carefully. Troy notices his thumb hovering over the power button all of a sudden. “Because I thought you said-”

“Abed,” Troy cuts him off before they can have a tragic misunderstanding. That’s one trope he does _not_ want them acting out, classic as it may be. “No. It’s literally _all_ I want. That’s why I can’t stay cool about it. I’m too, uh. Enchanted.”

“Oh,” Abed breathes. His thumb moves away from the power button again. Good. 

“Besides,” Troy tugs the camera down again and pulls Abed into another kiss, a little deeper than the first. “I already went away from you for too long. I’m not doing that again. You’ll never have to watch this.”

Abed’s lips part like he’s going to respond, but then apparently decides that leaning in for another kiss is a better idea. Troy’s pretty sure, when he lightly cups his hands over Abed’s cheeks, that he can feel him smiling. 

“Okay,” Abed breaks away and takes a step back, and when Troy’s eyes flutter open, the camera is pointing at him again. “If lover is too overwhelming, what do you want me to call you?”

That’s kind of the million dollar question, isn’t it. 

Actually, it’s less like a one million dollar question and more like a million one dollar questions piling up til they collapse under their own weight and meld into this vague wonderance: _what are we? What do we do next? Where do we go from here?_ His stomach does a somersault, because he can’t just not answer, but he also _really_ doesn’t want to mess this up, and Troy’s not so good at saying the right thing under pressure. 

Seriously. He’s got a terrible track record.

At the same time, he has to remind himself that this is Abed. _Abed_. They’ve always been able to work together to figure things out in a way that makes sense to both of them. That shouldn’t change just because they got each other off last night, right?

So he just looks from the camera to the ground, cheeks heating up. “I…” he clears his throat, “...This isn’t really how I thought we’d be having this conversation.”

“Want me to turn the camera off?” Abed asks quietly. There’s a certain special tenderness in his voice that Troy recognizes. It’s incredibly rare to the point where even Troy has only heard this specific tone a select few times. But that just makes it sound even sweeter when he does. And the surge of warmth and fondness Troy feels is what makes him shake his head in a moment of boldness.

“No,” he says, more confidently than he’d expected.

Except then he actually looks up and into the camera and that confidence dissolves.

He doesn’t know what it is. Something about the way that Abed’s looking at him over the top of the camera. Something about the flicker of hope behind his guarded expression. Something about that is scary. 

Why is it scary?

Thinking fast, he reverts to show-don’t-tell. Abed much prefers tell-don’t-show, but Troy doesn’t even know if there _are_ words to describe how he feels about Abed and what he wants them to be. None that he can access right now, anyway. 

“Actually,” he glances into the lens and bites his lip, “Maybe you should.” Then he doesn’t give Abed any time to be confused. He takes a few strides forward and wraps his arms around Abed’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss that’s deeper and slower and hungrier than before. He hears Abed inhale sharply through his nose, followed by a momentary stillness and then a faint beeping noise that Troy recognizes as the sound of the camera turning off. There’s a soft _thud,_ which must be Abed dropping the camera into the sand beside them, and then Abed’s hands are on his waist, slipping right underneath his open shirt and sliding around to rest on his lower back.

“Did you just drop your camera for me?” Troy asks between kisses.

Abed pulls him in closer. “It’s durable. And you’re really tempting.”

Troy needs to evaluate his kinks sometime, because just that tiny bit of praise makes him want to drop to his knees right then. But even he realizes how imprudent that would be at the moment, so he busies himself kissing Abed’s neck instead. He lets his teeth scrape lightly over a spot on the side of his throat that he knows is particularly sensitive and settles into the feeling of satisfaction it brings when Abed gasps a little.

“I feel like I should tell you,” Abed breathes, “Britta sent me to the drugstore earlier to buy pretzels, ‘cause she was craving them. I picked up some lube and condoms while I was at it.”

...Oh. 

_...Fuck._

Troy freezes in place, and it’s not because he’s scared. Far from it: it’s because the thought of Abed _actually_ fucking him turns him on so much all at once that he forgets how to move.

“I mean,” he adds when Troy doesn’t respond, “I’m not saying I expect anything, but after last night, I thought just in case—”

Troy kisses him hard to cut him off, hands balled into fists clutching the fabric of Abed’s shirt. He grinds his hips against Abed’s desperately, hoping to convey that, even pressed as close together as they are, they’re still entirely too far apart. 

Abed seems to agree.

  
  


*

  
  


Sweet, sweet Abed has a rough, sultry side. Which Troy had always kind of assumed, knowing vaguely about his side adventures at Greendale. He’d always tried to not think much about it because of the searing jealousy he felt in his gut whenever he did. Jealousy that he thought, for the longest time, was directed at Abed for getting more action than him. Now he knows that thinking about Abed in bed with someone else made him feel sick because he wanted to be that someone else. 

It sucked, honestly. A lot. 

So much pining. Having so much to say for so long, and not even knowing it. 

Delayed gratification is still gratification, though. The way Abed’s kissing him right now is so hot that it makes Troy wonder if maybe, just maybe it was all worth it. He’s kissing him heatedly, frantically, like any one of these kisses could be their last, and it has to count.

It _does_ count, every single one. It counts so much that it’s making him dizzy. 

“Abed,” he gasps between kisses, before he can run out of breath, “Abed, wait. Hang on a second.”

The kiss softens, their lips part, and Abed pulls back looking dazed and hot and horny. 

“Sorry,” he blinks hard a few times like he’s trying to bring himself back to reality, “was that too much? We can stop—”

Troy shakes his head quickly. “No, Abed. No, absolutely not. I might actually die if we stop now.”

Abed seems to relax hearing that, and he visibly relaxes even more when Troy’s hands smooth up over his biceps and shoulders.

“I just want to slow down a little,” he explains. “Since I’ve, you know, been in love with you for almost a decade. I want to remember this.”

“That’s a cliche,” Abed murmurs as he settles down, resting his head on Troy’s shoulder. 

Troy looks down at him. “You love cliches.”

Abed kisses his cheek. “Exactly. And I love you.”

That’s the first time Abed’s really said it out loud, directly to him. And even though there’s been a lot of saying it without saying it, actually hearing it sends a warm wash of contentment all through his body, from his cheeks to his chest to the tips of his toes. His throat feels tight as he looks into Abed’s careful gaze—careful, he realizes, because Abed is vulnerable right now. 

Troy needs him to know that he wants him. All of him. Flaws and vulnerabilities and all.

“I love you too,” he says earnestly. He reaches out and brushes his hand through Abed’s hair before guiding him into another kiss, languid and sweet. He threads his fingers into his soft curls and tugs, just enough so that Abed knows to climb back on top. Troy arches his back and wraps his legs around Abed’s waist, and Abed settles in between them.

Which, Troy can’t help but think, feels like exactly where he should always be.

Last night was frantic, hasty, desperately overcompensating for all the years they missed out on each other. Something they needed out of their systems. Balm to a burn that’s been scarring both of their souls for far too long. Messy, bone-deeply satisfying, and over too fast. 

This time, Abed kisses him with more surety, like he’s not so scared that Troy will evaporate into thin air if he takes too long. His lips are warm and soft, just like everything else about him, and Troy breathes out shakily as Abed lays wet, open mouthed kisses all over his neck and chest. He’s painfully hard, and he can feel that he’s not the only one. Slowly, he slides his arm down in between their bodies and cups Abed over his boxers where he’s hot and hard and squeezes a little, just enough to make him groan and push his hips forward. Satisfied with that response, he slips his thumbs underneath Abed’s waistband, and Abed does the same to him and then, finally, there’s nothing left in between them. 

Abed opens him up gently, his fingers slow and careful as they stroke inside. He bends two of them in a way that makes Troy’s toes curl, and he has to muffle his moan against Abed’s shoulder when he adds a third. It takes forever—or maybe it’s only a few minutes, whatever, time still doesn’t mean anything—but eventually his cock is aching as he’s rocking back onto Abed’s fingers, clenching around them like it’s not enough. Probably because it’s not. So he tells Abed as much.

“I’m ready,” he whispers against his mouth, spreading his legs wider for emphasis. “Fuck me, please.”

Abed sighs out shakily and grinds down one more time, leaving a smear of precum on Troy’s hip and tucking his head into his neck. 

“Straight to the point,” he breathes, lips pressed to that ridiculously sensitive patch of skin under Troy’s jaw. He shivers and tightens his grip on Abed’s shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he rolls his head to the side, his nose brushing lightly against Abed’s when he does. “That’s how you like it, right?”

Abed smiles faintly and kisses him with a renewed sense of urgency, sliding his hand down to Troy’s thigh and giving it a possessive squeeze. “Right.”

He shuts his eyes while Abed moves away, and in the back of his mind he registers the sound of the condom packet being torn open, the lube bottle uncapped, and so on. He opens them again when Abed’s hand taps behind one of his knees. “Legs up,” he says in a tone that’s as sweet and reverent as it is commanding. Troy does as he’s told without a second thought.

Without even realizing it, he holds his breath as the head of Abed’s cock, hard and lubed-up, presses bluntly against his hole. “Breathe,” he reminds Troy gently as he pushes inside the first bit. Troy does, grateful for the reminder, and it quickly turns from an exhale to a soft, needy whine when Abed sinks further into him. 

It doesn’t happen all at once. The breach isn’t exactly a familiar sensation, and it’s significantly bigger than three fingers, but Abed’s patient with him as he adjusts, kissing him and whispering sweet things to diffuse the nerves and tension. Troy presses his head back against the pillow once he’s actually bottomed out. It’s all bordering on too much, but in the best way possible. 

“You’re pretty flexible from dance and stuff, right?” Abed asks, hands running over Troy’s thighs and hips. His eyes close as he nods, not sure why his flexibility is relevant until Abed hooks Troy’s legs over his arms and leans down, pinning his knees to his shoulders. The change in angle draws out a moan so unexpectedly loud that Abed has to surge forward and capture Troy’s mouth in a kiss, in an attempt to muffle him slightly. They’re both giggling as their lips part. 

“That was a good moan, right?” Abed asks him. 

“So good,” Troy whispers. 

It starts off slow, just Abed gently rocking his hips while Troy takes some time getting used to him. They’re at the perfect angle, which Abed must have done on purpose, for Abed to brush slowly over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him with every movement. 

Troy sees stars. 

Abed has always been able to anticipate what Troy wants and what he needs, so it’s not a surprise that sex isn’t any different. Still, it makes his head spin the way Abed speeds up exactly when Troy wants him to, or slows down, or goes harder or gentler. Every kiss is like a jolt of electricity through his veins, leaving him buzzing and overwhelmed in the best way. 

“You’re close, aren’t you,” Abed mumbles against his throat, just as he’s starting to feel that familiar aching, coiling heat in his lower belly. 

He nods, and then because he realizes Abed can’t see him, breathes out a soft, shaky _yes._

“Good,” Abed’s lips brush up over his jaw, across his cheek, then melds their mouths into what might be their warmest, most perfect kiss to date. He doesn’t even break away to say _I love you,_ just kind of mumbles it into Troy’s mouth, which of course is what drives Troy’s dumb romantic ass to the brink of orgasm. He reaches down in between their bodies and strokes himself as best he can in time with Abed fucking him. Just a couple long, hard pumps on his dick and he’s cumming hot and fast over his hand and onto his stomach, hearing his own blood pulsing in his ears as the pleasure comes crashing over him in waves. He squeezes his eyes shut to ride it out, swallowing air down in thirsty gasps as the tidal waves of pleasure ebb out to a gentle, lapping current. It’s only then, as he’s coming back down to earth, that he realizes just how oversensitive he is now, and whimpers. Abed’s slowed down significantly to just a gentle rocking again, but he stops completely at the noise. 

“Sorry,” he’s panting when he pulls back to look at Troy, eyes dilated and his hair tousled from Troy running his hands through it over and over. Nonetheless, he looks and sounds apologetic. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Troy says quickly. “Promise.” Abed seems hesitant as he adjusts their position so Troy’s legs can wrap around his waist instead, which is some pretty sweet relief after having them pinned up for so long. He reaches up and takes Abed’s face gently in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones. It makes his eyes flutter shut. “Keep going, please.” He whispers, and after another moment of hesitation, Abed does.

It’s careful but purposeful and fast at the same time, and within minutes he can tell Abed’s getting close, the way his hips lose their steady rhythm and the noises he makes become increasingly desperate. Finally, he chokes out a moan as he thrusts forward and buries himself inside one last time. His mouth is hot and wet where he presses it to Troy’s shoulder to muffle his shudders and sighs, until his body finally untenses and he’s breathing evenly again. 

Troy thinks they could just stay like this forever, cuddled on his basement sofa bed with their heartbeats syncing up. He can’t think of a single good reason that he’d ever want to let go.

He rubs gentle circles in between Abed’s shoulder blades, lips pressing to his temple. “You good, baby?” He asks softly. 

Abed is silent.

It takes a minute for his own words to dawn on him. It’s not until Abed lifts his head with a small smile and a questioning eyebrow raise that he realizes.

He hasn’t called Abed _baby_ before, except in his dreams. And given what they just did, maybe some part of him thinks that he’s in one right now. He opens his mouth a little, but there’s nothing he can really say to explain. What’s he supposed to do? Act like he meant to say _buddy,_ but stumbled on his words? Weighing the options, he’s pretty sure the idea that he actually meant to call Abed _buddy_ right after sex is even more embarrassing.

He doesn’t have to offer an explanation, though. Abed’s curious stare shifts into something softer. “Yeah,” he kisses the corner of Troy’s mouth and pulls out carefully, rolls off to the side and discards the condom… somewhere on the floor, doesn’t matter, they’ll deal with that tomorrow. “I’m good. Are you?”

Troy feels light and floaty as he nods. “Mhm. Super good.”

Abed doesn’t say anything; just sighs happily. It’s such a sweet sound.

“Sleep?” Abed asks eventually, after some time of them just staring at each other dreamily. Troy feels like if he stares long enough, Abed’s eyes could guide him straight to the center of the universe. That makes it hard to look away.

However, Abed’s suggestion does make him yawn, his eyes squeezing shut as he stretches his back out. “Good idea,” he agrees.

Sleepily, they clean themselves up as best they can, slipping under the covers and right into each other’s arms. And even though there’s a lot they still haven’t said, holding onto Abed feels like two puzzle pieces snapping into place and something clicks in his brain just before sleep takes him. A strong, solid answer to the question he’s been skirting for days. A simple:

_Yes. This thing was built to last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> comments make my day ❤️
> 
> come talk to me @[lgbtrobed](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> [[chapter 5 reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/634061606390824960)]


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> millions of thanks to everyone who's supported this story along the way!! it's been an honor to write for you guys and i love you all very much ❤️

“It’s only bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding, you know,” Abed says. “So you can look at me if you want.”

They’re standing at opposite ends of the basement, both of them getting dressed in what was companionable silence up until just now. Or rather, Troy finished getting dressed a while ago but hasn’t turned around from his mirror, and Abed must have just noticed. 

He blushes, then sighs. 

“I’m not worried about bad luck,” he admits. “I’m worried that looking at you is gonna get me hot and bothered before the wedding and I’ll end up doing something to embarrass myself. I don’t think you realize what you look like in a suit.”

He does turn around then, though. Abed’s standing in front of a different mirror, partially dressed and struggling with his bowtie, seemingly too bothered with that task to notice the horny implications of Troy’s answer. 

“I don’t understand why Annie wouldn’t just let me wear a clip-on,” Abed says defeatedly when he looks up and makes eye contact with Troy through their reflections. He drops his arms down to his sides and Troy sympathetically hums. 

“She thinks they’re tacky,” he shrugs. He walks up behind Abed and turns him around, reaches up and gets to work on his bowtie for him. “I don’t know why she assumes anyone can tell the difference.”

Abed accepts his help with a quiet  _ thanks _ . It’s the exact same one Troy’s been hearing since freshman year, when he started tying Abed’s shoes for him. Abed buttons the cuffs of his sleeves as Troy straightens the bow out, then smooths the collar down over it and steps back. 

Abed yawns just as he does. 

“We really should’ve taken that nap earlier, huh,” Troy says, a yawn taking over his own voice as he watches Abed rub his eyes sleepily. 

“Probably,” Abed agrees. They’ve been up since the crack of dawn setting up for the wedding, arranging and rearranging everything to Annie’s liking. She’d purposely left a two hour gap in between when they would finish setting up, and when they’d need to start getting ready, and in hindsight they really should’ve used that time to rest. 

Troy’s pretty happy with what they ended up doing instead, though. He thinks Abed is too, if the way he tugs him closer by his belt loops and kisses him is any indication. 

“Annie has a stash of 5 Hour Energy in the fridge,” Abed says. “If we each have one, we should be able to power through the wedding.”

“Good idea,” Troy watches Abed shrug on his jacket, the final piece of his ensemble, and then starts heading for the stairs before a thought strikes him and he pauses, turning back around. 

“Hey,” he steps in closer to Abed again, while steeling himself at the same time. “After the wedding, do you think we could talk? You know, about us?”

Realization dawns in Abed’s eyes. Troy sees a hint of apprehension flicker across his expression, but he nods.

“About us, yeah,” Abed breathes. “In a serious way, you mean.”

“In a serious way,” Troy confirms in a small voice. He tentatively reaches out and takes both of Abed’s hands, stepping in closer and drawing in another breath of courage. “But… good-serious,” he adds. 

“Good-serious,” Abed repeats, seeming to turn the words over a few times in his head before his mouth slowly curves into a little bit of a smile. He nods and looks down into Troy’s eyes. “Okay. Yeah.” He goes in for their handshake at the same time Troy does, but apparently they both decide that it’s not enough, because Troy’s pressed up against the wall with Abed’s lips on his just a second later.

“We need to get out of here before this goes too far,” he says when they break for air, but then he pulls Abed right back in. Abed kisses him sweetly for a moment before breaking away again with a frantic nod.

“Right, yeah,” Abed says. “Let’s do that. Quickly.”

Troy pecks him one last time on the lips before hurrying up the stairs.

  
  


*

  
  


Whoever in their betting pool had  _ Troy cries more than Britta, but Jeff cries more than Troy  _ is in for a pretty big treat tonight, Troy muses as he watches two of his best friends hustle down the aisle together. Like they can’t be done fast enough with such a formal, public display of devotion—which, ironically, is just one of the things that makes them sort of perfect for each other. Even if Abed’s simulation turns out to be right, and they can’t handle the conformity of marriage, he’s happy to see them finally finding each other after a long and bumpy road. 

He wipes his own eyes one more time as the cheers and applause die down. Annie hurries to the front of the room to direct everyone from the foyer to the reception tent outside, and someone claps Troy on the shoulder—maybe Dean Pelton, maybe Willy Jr., he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care, anyway. He’s already too busy searching Abed out.

It doesn’t take long. Once the crowd thins out he finds Abed standing in his little corner at the other end of the room, the spot he and Annie had decided would be best for filming the ceremony. He’s smiling a bit as he looks down at the camera, probably watching some footage back, and then that smile just widens when he glances up and meets Troy’s gaze.

And Troy never thought it was realistic on TV, how the main character locking eyes with their love interest would cause music to swell and the whole scene to slow down, shrouded in a hazy, glowy vignette with only the aforementioned lover in focus. But he gets it now. A distinct warmth blooms in his chest and the music in his ears swells to a crescendo as Abed mouths to him from across the room:  _ I love you.  _

And even though he feels like he’s about to pass out from sheer joy, he manages to mouth back:  _ I know.  _

  
  


*

  
  


All in all, it’s a pretty big success. Jeff and Britta make it through their first dance without combusting, and Willy Jr. only breaks down twice during his best man toast. No one gets sloppy-drunk or shatters any fine china during dinner. Actually, given that this is their friend group they’re talking about, it’s more than a pretty big success. It’s a goddamn miracle.

“Having fun?” Annie chirps. 

Troy chokes in surprise on his sip of champagne as she appears at his elbow. He coughs and wipes his mouth ungracefully on the back of his hand before looking over at her. 

“You’re like a cat,” he says. “If you keep sneaking up on me like this, I’m gonna make you wear a bell.”

She playfully clinks her own flute against his before looking around the tent, and he joins her. On the far side, they can see the sun setting over the lake, though it’s kind of hard to make out through the crowd of slow-dancers swaying on the floor. They look happy, all doused in the warm glow of the twinkle lights. He can’t not smile at that.

“Not bad, right?” Annie asks, reaching over to slightly adjust one of the centerpieces at a nearby table. “I think we pulled it off.”

“More like you pulled it off,” Troy tells her. “Not that anyone doubted you could.”

She hums a little bit to herself. “Yeah, but you did go on a whole worldwide sea voyage to get the money that let you pay for this place,” she offers. “You deserve some credit for that at some point, I think.” She looks around the tent again and does her special Annie sigh, which grabs Troy’s attention. “You think I’ll ever get to plan one of these for myself?” She asks him. Her tone is light and casual, but he knows she wouldn’t be asking if she wasn’t seriously pondering it. 

“Come on,” he bumps her with his elbow. “Someday you’re gonna sweep some lucky girl off her feet. It takes time, you know?”

She looks up at him, eyes soft and wide and lips turned up in a half smile, half smirk. “Coming from my former comphet crush? That means a lot. And, speaking of things that take time…” her expression shifts into something more mischievous, “How about you and Abed?”

He rolls his eyes. “Should’ve seen that coming,” he sighs. 

She gives him a pointed look, and he concedes.

“It’s… moving along, okay? We’ve done some… stuff. But we’re trying to be discreet about it.”

Her eyes widen more, if that’s even possible. He knows she’s going to ask for details, which is why it’s so fortunate just then that he spots Abed at the other end of the tent. He’s walking in from outside, suit jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gaze lands on Troy right away, almost like they’re magnetic to each other. 

Annie notices them, too. 

“Alright, fine,” she huffs, looking from Troy to Abed and then back again before stepping away. “But don’t think that this conversation is over!”

He gives her a vague hand wave, unable to take his eyes off of Abed as he makes his way towards him. Abed meets him in the middle of the dance floor. 

“I missed you,” Troy says, sliding his arms around Abed’s shoulders. Abed’s hands come to rest on his waist. 

“I just went to put the camera away,” he reminds him, and Troy sighs, resting his head down on his shoulder. Abed’s hands slide further back, arms wrapping around Troy completely and hugging him close. 

“Still too far,” Troy mumbles. 

“Hey, guys,” Britta appears cheerily, seemingly out of nowhere and honestly, Troy has no idea how so many of their friends manage to do that on such a regular basis. Jeff is right beside her, flushed and happy with his arm slung around her shoulders. “We appreciate the whole  _ Friends _ homage with the ‘not stealing our thunder’ thing. But we’re married now, so you two can stop pretending you’re not stupidly in love.”

“You were doing a pretty bad job, anyway,” Jeff adds good-naturedly, nodding to their current position. 

Troy flushes a little. He can’t see Abed’s expression, but he does feel him lean his head a little to the side, his cheek just barely touching Troy’s forehead. And that means he’s comfortable, which eases what little tension was left in his own body for the time being. 

“Thanks, guys,” he says, and he can hear how over-the-moon his voice sounds, and he doesn’t care. Especially not when he feels Abed’s head turn a little more and his lips press against Troy’s temple. Jeff and Britta are looking at them with the sort of fond disgust that Troy has always hoped to inspire with the love of his life.

“Anyway,” Britta draws out her syllables a bit, like she knows they’ll get completely lost in each other if she doesn’t command their attention. “We’re happy for you guys. So, you know, have fun. And try not to make the rest of the couples here look bad.”

“No promises,” Abed mumbles, and one more fond eyeroll later they’re alone again, swaying almost imperceptibly to the music for a few songs.

At the sound of some mic feedback from the front of the tent, Troy glances up at the stage, where the band is beginning to pack up.

“Thank you guys so much for being a great audience tonight!” The singer announces. “We’re gonna let the stereo take it from here. First up is a request from the happy couple themselves, Jeff and Britta. This one’s for all you long distance lovers out there. Enjoy.”

Troy stills, and he feels that Abed does, too. He lifts his head up from Abed’s shoulder and they share a brief moment of thoughtful eye contact before the music gently swells. Abed’s expression softens and Troy smiles, eyes watering as he rests his head back down.

_ Somewhere out there _

_ Beneath the pale moonlight _

_ Someone’s thinking of me _

_ And loving me tonight _

“They did this on purpose. I listened to this all the time while you were gone,” Abed’s voice sounds kind of scratchy as his arms tighten around Troy’s waist. “It reminds me of you, always.”

_ Somewhere out there _

_ Someone’s saying a prayer _

_ That we’ll find one another _

_ In that big somewhere out there _

“I wanted to think you missed me as much as I missed you,” he adds. “I needed to, actually.”

“I did,” Troy whispers without a second thought, because it’s true. He clings tightly to Abed and gently sways along, tucking his head further into the crook of his neck. “I missed you like crazy. Especially at night. I wanted you so much, sometimes all I could do was sit on the deck and look at the stars and hope that maybe you were looking at them, too.”

“I probably was,” Abed murmurs softly.

_ And even though I know how very far apart we are _

_ It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star _

_ And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby _

_ It helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky _

Troy closes his eyes, a few rogue tears slipping down his cheeks and soaking into Abed’s shirt collar.

“Thanks for coming back, by the way,” Abed adds, his voice a near-whisper now. “Seriously.”

_ Somewhere out there _

_ If love can see us through _

Troy shrugs, even though the fact that Abed feels like thanking him for that kind of makes his heart hurt. That’s a conversation they can have later. “Thanks for being here. And, you know. Being you.”

_ Then we’ll be together _

_ Somewhere out there _

“I love you,” Abed whispers. And Troy’s too choked up to say it back, so instead he slides his hands up, delicately cupping Abed’s face and kissing him and hoping that says enough. The way Abed kisses back makes him think it does.

_ Out where dreams come true… _

  
  


*

Abed doesn’t drink that much. He doesn’t like his brain chemistry getting fucked with, and Troy understands that well enough. Abed’s brain can give him a hard enough time as it is, no substances necessary.

Troy’s seen him actually get drunk just a few times. Once, on his 21st birthday after he got a drink thrown in his face for turning down sex with a stranger—which Troy hadn’t learned until years later, and had been absolutely livid about. Another couple times were part of the creative filmmaking process. And the last was the night of their graduation, when he’d woken up the next morning to Abed passed out in his bed and clinging to him like a body pillow. That one is a particularly cherished memory. 

Abed doesn’t get drunk tonight, but he does have a couple glasses of champagne, and let Jeff and Annie coerce him into doing shots at the bar. So by the time he’s tugging Troy back into the house and down to the basement, he’s not uninhibited, but he is looser than usual and a little flushed and giggly. Troy feels just about the same. 

The wedding isn’t over. It’s winding down but definitely still going, but they both know they can’t keep their hands off each other any longer. It feels like no time passes in between them locking the basement door and Abed’s hand gently stroking over his hip as he pushes inside him, Troy whimpering a little at the stretch and the way it aches in the best way possible. Abed doesn’t have to ask him if it’s okay this time; Troy just glances up into his eyes and nods minutely, and that’s all he needs.

The rhythm of Abed’s hips is slow but steady and purposeful, hitting the exact right spot every time he rocks inside. The kisses are sweet like honey and Abed’s hands leave a trail of warm sparks everywhere he touches him. Every little moan and hitch of breath is absolutely musical. 

The rest of the world falls away. In theory, Troy can feel the mattress under his back and hear the muted sounds of the party still carrying on outside, but everything that’s not a point of contact with Abed is secondary and superfluous. He arches up and drags his fingernails down his back just to draw him closer. The buildup is hot and achy and just on the right side of agonizing. Even so, Troy eventually has to beg Abed to fuck him harder, before he dies of anticipation. 

Abed breathes out a laugh and kisses him, teeth catching on Troy’s bottom lip with a playful bite. He tightens his hold, pulls back and pauses, and Troy’s just teetering on the edge of falling apart when Abed moves again, driving his hips down in a harder, rougher, faster pace all at once. He gasps out a slightly louder moan than intended and that just seems to turn Abed on even more—he redoubles his effort until the only sounds Troy can manage are gasps and moans so needy that he hardly even registers them as his own. He cums in between them in a matter of minutes, with a string of whispered, incoherent pleas falling from his lips and onto Abed’s. Abed pulls back for just a second to look at him, eyes dark and heavy with lust. Troy’s too breathless to say anything so he just lifts his eyebrows in an expression that he hopes says  _ kiss me, please,  _ and he doesn’t know if that’s exactly the message he gets across but Abed kisses him anyway. It’s a little hard, a little desperate, and just perfect as Abed cums after just a couple more thrusts, exhaling shakily against Troy’s shoulder. 

He doesn’t let him pull out, even though he makes a move to. Instead he kisses him and whispers  _ stay  _ until Abed settles down on him again. Because he’s not ready for Abed to be away from him yet. Not now. 

And, if he’s being quite honest with himself… not ever.

  
  


*

They lay there together for a long time, and he’s still reluctant to let Abed go, but concedes once holding their position becomes more uncomfortable than anything else. But after they’ve cleaned themselves up and stretched their limbs, they crawl under the covers and curl up together, which feels like second nature at this point. 

He hopes it stays that way.

“I know you wanted to talk about us,” Abed says quietly. Troy’s hands are combing through his hair with the firm but gentle pressure he knows Abed finds soothing, watching as it curls around his fingers. “And you’re right, we should do that. But there’s something I want to give you first.”

“Can you get it without moving?” Troy sighs, pressing his lips to Abed’s forehead.

It’s more of a rhetorical question, but Abed doesn’t really do rhetoricals. However, Troy only remembers that when he sees Abed actually stretching his arm out over the side of the bed, straining uncomfortably as he reaches for his backpack. He grunts a little as he overextends himself, grabbing onto one of the straps and tugging it towards them. 

God, Troy loves him. 

“You know how I’m not good at explaining my feelings sometimes?” Abed asks, propping himself up on his forearms. Troy rubs his hand down his back as he nods, and Abed nods in return. 

“I think you know that I love you,” he continues, looking at Troy for confirmation. Troy nods again, which seems satisfactory to Abed as he unzips his backpack and reaches inside. “But, after you said you wanted to talk, I didn’t want to risk accidentally giving you the wrong idea about anything. So I got you this, just to be safe.”

He hands Troy a piece of paper, folded over into thirds, then tosses his bag back on the floor and looks at him expectantly. 

Troy sits up and carefully opens it. He probably shouldn’t feel nervous about what’s inside, but Abed’s biting his lip as he watches him, looking kind of unsure, so that doesn’t really help.

He blows out a breath when he finishes unfolding it, his eyes scanning over the page. Immediately, he feels his eyes starting to brim with tears.

“It’s a ticket to LA,” Abed offers after Troy doesn’t say anything for a bit. “I’m flying back on Tuesday. You can come with me, or not… it’s more of a symbolic ticket, I guess. Because I want to be with you whenever you want to be with me. I know you have a whole life here and I don’t expect you to immediately uproot everything and come live with me. That wouldn’t be fair. But…” His voice breaks, and that’s when Troy tears his eyes away from the ticket and looks at him. For the most part, he’s keeping his cool, but he’s breathing kind of shallowly and his hands are fidgeting in his lap. Troy moves in closer and rests his own hand over them, just so Abed knows he’s not going anywhere.

“But I can’t go back to the way things were,” Abed finishes. That’s when Troy knows he’s being really serious. “I missed you so much, Troy. I can’t do this whole thing over again; realizing how much I love you and then letting you go because I’m afraid of you resenting me for needing you too much. I just… I can’t. It sucked. And I love you so,  _ so— _ ”

Troy throws himself forward at Abed before he can get another word out, landing half in his lap with his arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Without really even meaning to, he catches Abed’s lips in a deep, purposeful kiss that hopefully can convey even a tiny fraction of how he feels. 

“Abed, I love you,” he whispers. He knows tears are trickling down his cheeks when he blinks his eyes open, and Abed’s staring right into them, and he also knows that doesn’t matter because Abed’s seen him cry a thousand times and evidently still loves him, tears and all. “I don’t even know if there’s a word for how much I love you, but I do. And I don’t wanna go anywhere ever again, okay? That’s all I learned on that stupid trip. That I can live without you… But I don’t want to.”

“So…” Abed prompts, and Troy understands. He needs to know, in no uncertain terms. He slides his hands up to Abed’s cheeks, cupping his face and kissing him. 

“So we’ll make this work,” Troy says when their lips part. “I’m yours. If you want me.”

Abed’s eyes are shining when he kisses his shoulder, then his neck, then his lips again.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

On Tuesday, Troy takes the flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> as always, comment for me to love you more than abed loves sweaters
> 
> find me/talk to me on tumblr @[lgbtrobed](https://lgbtrobed.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [[reblog link](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lgbtrobed/635866589370220544)]


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